Yield Strength
by CityDurl
Summary: The bridge crew of the newly launched Enterprise has much to learn about and from each other. But what can an android teach a human? Behind the scenes for Where No One Has Gone Before, The Last Outpost, and Lonely Among Us. D/T. A sequel to Love Polyhedron, but can stand alone.
1. Chapter 1

One – Night Vision

"We'll draw straws to decide."

Will's proposal met with laughter from Geordi and Tasha and a puzzled look from Data. The four officers exited the turbolift and walked towards shuttlebay three.

"Straws, sir?" Data asked.

"We'll just order some up from the replicator," Geordi said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tasha replied. "We'll split up the duties evenly. I'll pilot the shuttle there."

"I will take ops for the duration of our journey to the planet," offered Data. "What is the significance of drawing straws?"

"I'll pilot back," Will said.

"That leaves me with shotgun on the way home," Geordi finished. "There, easy peasy." They reached the shuttlebay and nodded to the crewman at the control console.

"I fail to understand how depicting straws could have had bearing on our decision," Data said.

"Not 'depicting' straws," Will corrected. "Drawing straws."

"Hey, look, we can take shuttlecraft 13," Geordi offered, pointing to the vehicle waiting nearby.

"Very funny. I'd like to come back in one piece, thank you," Tasha said. "I can't believe we even have a 13."

"I do not understand," Data said.

"It's superstition. 13 is an unlucky number for humans," Will explained.

"And shuttle 13 is already bearing it out. The replicator malfunctioned on her maiden voyage," Geordi went on.

"And then the gravity generators went out last month during an escort trip," Tasha added. "The pilot and the Zakdorn ambassador had to strap themselves down for twelve straight hours. I bet they lost some bone mass."

"I am aware of those malfunctions, but they could happen to any shuttlecraft. I see no reason why the number 13 should signify," Data said. He tapped his access code into the keypad of shuttlecraft 1 and the doors rose open. He gestured for Tasha to precede him. "Superstition is a human fallacy."

Tasha climbed aboard. "Maybe so. I'm still glad we're taking the Sakharov."

The lights outside the shuttle blinked intermittent blue beams into the cockpit. After an hour, no one noticed it any longer. Data and Tasha sat in the pilots' seats. Geordi and Will sat in the passenger area in the rear.

"Would you recap the main points of the mission study for us, Mr. Data?" Will asked.

"Was my briefing less than thorough this morning, Commander?" Data queried.

"Of course not," Tasha replied.

"Just give us the highlights," Will said. "It'll help us pass the time."

"Bored already, Commander?" asked Geordi.

"It'll be more interesting than listening to the sound of the engines," Will replied.

"The Vareshk have made overtures to ally with the Federation ever since the successful establishment of their first off-world colony on Vega Mar III," Data began. "They wish to expand their planetary holdings, but fear they will attract the attention of a belligerent species, such as the Romulans or Cardassians, if they encroach close to disputed territory. The Vareshk governing council has asked the Federation to assess the defensibility of an outpost at Vega Mar VI."

"They haven't begun to build yet, right?" Tasha asked.

"That is correct. Their survey team has been gathering information and performing tests for six months, and will present the schematics for the proposed station in person," Data replied.

"They don't trust subspace communications," Geordi said.

"Yes. The Vareshk are developing plans for a new defense system that are too sensitive to be disseminated by any means."

"According to them," Tasha pointed out. "We don't have any intel about vulnerabilities in our subspace transmissions."

"But it affords us the opportunity to see the new technology firsthand. The first Federation team to inspect the site three months ago was not given access to the defense system schematics," Data went on.

"The team from the Ajax," Will added.

"Yes. The Vareshk have been very cautious," Data finished.

"That's just a nice way to say paranoid," Geordi commented.

They landed without incident two hours later, despite a violent weather system that had developed at the destination coordinates. A snowstorm was raging on the surface. The shuttle doors opened to a shrieking wind. Tasha emerged first. The ice crystals whipping through the air stung the exposed skin on her face and hands. She took out a tricorder. The other three alighted and stood beside her.

"Almost no visibility!" Tasha shouted above the wind. "Geordi, can you see anything out here?"

"Yes! The survey station is only a half kilometer away, but we'll have to beam over there – I don't recommend we walk through this storm!" Geordi shouted back.

"Understood! Let's get back onboard!" Will ordered.

They all complied with alacrity. Back in the warmth and quiet of the shuttle, they made their plans.

"One of us will have to remain behind to beam us there and back," Will said.

"I can stay behind," Geordi volunteered. "You need Tasha's tactical analysis and Data's expertise more than you need mine."

Riker nodded his agreement. "Lt. Yar, hail the Vareshk station. Let's get some updated coordinates."

Tasha sat down at the conn and sent the hail. "No response, sir."

"Keep trying, Lieutenant. Could there be interference from the storm?" Will asked.

Data took a seat at ops and tapped at the console. "Communications systems are functioning normally, sir. Our sensors are picking up the station."

"I'm getting a transponder echo, but no response to the hail," Tasha added.

"Mr. Data, can our sensors detect the location of their receiver?" Will asked.

"Aye, sir. There is a communication center precisely .78 kilometers from our present location."

"Are there any life signs?" asked Will.

"Yes. But the readings on the number and location of life forms are inconclusive. There appears to be an area of the compound that our sensors cannot penetrate," Data replied.

Geordi looked over Data's shoulder. "It's a pretty sophisticated setup for a temporary station. It's arranged like a wheel, with the comm. center at the hub. It looks like the dead area forms the rim."

"Maybe that's where their secret defense system is housed," offered Tasha.

"Possible. But I still find it strange that they're not answering our hails. Lt. LaForge, find a safe place for us to transport, close to the communication center," ordered Will.

"Aye, sir." Geordi moved to the rear of the shuttle.

"Recommend we go armed," Tasha said.

"Agreed. Maybe it's just a malfunction with their communication system, but something doesn't smell right." Will said.

Data looked askance at him, but did not comment. He held a tricorder at the ready, while Will and Tasha set their phasers.

"Ready whenever you are, Commander," said Geordi.

The three officers stood in a triangle. "Energize," Will said.

They rematerialized in a dimly lit room with several computer workstations but no personnel. Data flipped open his tricorder and scanned the area, while Tasha searched the room with her phaser low in her hand. She examined the entrance of each hallway that led away from the cylindrical room. She circled back to the commander.

"We seem to be alone here," she reported.

"I find no life signs in the area," Data added. "All of the equipment is functioning, and seems to have been abandoned mid-operation, as if in haste."

"What about the dead area?" Will asked.

"It appears to encompass the whole rim of the station," Data replied.

"This place seems pretty well established for an outpost that the Vareshk haven't started to build," Tasha noted.

"Sir, I am picking up faint life signs –" Data shook his head. "They are gone again."

"We're going to have to make visual contact to meet with the survey team," Will decided. "Let's spread out and search these corridors." He tapped his communicator. "Riker to LaForge."

"LaForge here."

"Geordi, do you have a lock on our signals?"

"I'm picking you up now, Commander, but you're very close to that blackout area."

"Understood. Keep a lock on us for as long as you can. Riker out." Will turned to the other two officers. "It's obvious that the Vareshk were just in this room."

"Perhaps they have concealed themselves and are observing us before they proceed with the meeting," Data suggested. "The Vareshk have shown marked suspicion in all of our dealings thus far."

"Maybe it's a test," offered Tasha. "Maybe they don't trust us, or our credentials, and they want to see if we can jump through their hoops."

"Whatever it is, stay alert. Something about this doesn't feel right." Will indicated the corridors for each of them to take, and the three split up.

There were six spokes to the wheel of the outpost, each a long hallway with a curved ceiling. Tasha entered the northeast corridor and took out a tricorder. The were access panels on the walls at eye level, high up for her, but the Vareshk averaged two meters in height. The hallway was otherwise featureless, and made of a smooth grey metal that amplified the sound of Tasha's boot heels striking the floor. Small, semicircular bulbs gave off red-tinged light at infrequent intervals. There were areas of obscurity at the midpoints between them. Tasha moved forward cautiously. The end of the corridor was not lit, and her tricorder registered no reading on what lay ahead. She assumed that she had reached the outer rim of the station.

"Yar to LaForge." Tasha tapped her communicator and waited in vain for a response. She was just about to move forward into the darkness when an echo of a shout caught her ear, faint but audible in the silence. Tasha holstered her tricorder and ran back down the corridor the way she came, her footfalls clanging and echoing off of the walls. She burst into the control hub and ran for the north hallway where Riker had gone. It was a straight, flat view, and she could see that Data had responded ahead of her. He was close to the end of the hall, aiming a tricorder at Riker, who was on the floor, partially obscured by a gelatinous orange mass. Tasha wasn't sure that she was seeing what she was seeing – two arms were emerging from the mass, wearing Starfleet command red and reaching towards Will's face. Tasha raised her phaser and fired.


	2. Chapter 2

The phaser beam caused the orange mass to ripple and glow, but the arms reaching out of it moved inexorably closer to Riker's head. Tasha thumbed the setting on her phaser and fired again.

"Tasha, wait –" Data's reproof came too late. The gelatinous orange mass vaporized in front of them.

Tasha put away her phaser and rushed forward, kneeling on the floor next to Will. "Commander!" His eyes were open, but unseeing. "Data, why were you just standing there while that thing attacked him?"

"It was not attacking him, Lieutenant. It was probing him," Data replied. "Cdr. Riker was unharmed."

Tasha was struggling to get Will to his feet. "Humans who are unharmed can walk and talk, Data!"

He assisted her, putting an arm under Will's and lifting him with ease. "Cdr. Riker's vital signs are normal. He is merely semi-conscious."

Tasha gritted her teeth and glared at him. She slapped her comm. badge. "Yar to La Forge." There was no answer.

"I believe we are too close to the –"

"Obviously. Let's get him to the hub and Geordi can beam us out of here." Tasha's tone was noticeably harsh. She took out her phaser and led the way through the hall, Data following and supporting Will, half-dragging him forward. "Did you see what happened? Where did that thing come from?"

"Negative. I heard Cdr. Riker cry out. When I arrived, the mass had engulfed him completely, and then drew away."

"Why didn't you respond?"

"I did respond. The commander was stunned, but otherwise unhurt. The mass was undergoing a fascinating change, just before you destroyed it."

They reached the central room. Tasha tapped her communicator. "Yar to La Forge." No response. The accusatory look on Tasha's face turned to worry. "Why doesn't Geordi answer?"

Data mirrored her concern. "I do not know." He draped Will's arm over Tasha's shoulder and went to a computer console. After a minute, he spoke. "I am unable to raise the shuttle on their communication system."

"We have to get over there immediately. Where's the exit?"

Data tapped at the interface. "There is an underground passageway with egress from this door." He indicated a hatch in the floor behind them.

"Underground passageway … I don't like the sound of that," Tasha said, "especially since we haven't seen any sign of the Vareshk team."

"It leads to the landing site," Data continued. "We will have adequate protection from the storm." He knelt down and opened the hatch.

"Uhhhh …" The weight on Tasha's shoulder grew lighter as Will began to regain consciousness.

"Commander, are you all right?" she asked.

Will passed a hand over his eyes and stood upright on his own. "What happened?"

Data and Tasha shared a look. "We were hoping you could tell us, sir," she replied.

"There is no time now," Data cautioned. "We must get back to the shuttle."

"Can you walk?" Tasha asked Will.

"I can manage," he answered.

Data descended through the hatchway first, followed by Will, with Tasha taking the rear, phaser in hand.

The underground passage was as dimly lit as the corridors had been, with the same red bulbs at distant intervals.

"You don't remember anything, sir?" Tasha asked.

"I was searching the dark area at the end of the north hallway, when I heard . . . something. That's all I remember."

"We saw something attack you – it looked like the marmalade the captain puts on his croissants. But it was huge, and it was covering you."

"I was attempting to discern what the substance was when Lt. Yar destroyed it," added Data.

Her answering glare was lost in the darkness. "There were arms coming out of it. They looked like they were wearing a Starfleet uniform."

"Bizarre," said Will. "I don't remember any of that."

"You were stunned for several minutes, sir. Perhaps that has affected your memory," Data conjectured.

"I'm reading the shuttle just a few meters away," Tasha announced, having switched her phaser for a tricorder. "We need to find a way up."

"The map showed an exit approximately 20 meters ahead," Data said.

"Let's get to it. I can move faster now," said Will.

They double marched to a ladder of smooth metal rungs. Data led the way, opening the hatch to the shrieking wind and flying snow. The other two followed, shielding their faces with their arms. They doubled back to the shuttle, where diagonal snow drifts had formed against the hull. An oddly shaped, long lump in the snow lay directly beside the shuttle door.

"Geordi!" Will ran forward and wiped the snow away to reveal the fallen navigator, his lips an ominous ashen gray.

Data scanned him with his tricorder, as Tasha typed her access code into the shuttle keypad. "Advanced hypothermia," Data announced.

The shuttle doors rose. "Get him inside!" Will ordered.

"What was he doing out here, anyway?" Tasha shouted over the wind, as she and Data lifted Geordi's prostrate body and boarded the shuttle. They lay him down on the floor in the passenger area.

Will boarded and closed the doors, and staggered slightly as the cabin re-pressurized. "Whoa."

"Commander, I'll take the helm," Tasha said, taking the pilot's seat. "Can you take ops and try to raise the Enterprise?"

Will nodded, still looking disoriented.

"Initializing launch sequence," Tasha reported.

"Riker to Enterprise." There was silence from the comm.

"We may be out of range. Data, what's Geordi's status?" Tasha asked.

Data was administering a hypospray to Geordi's neck. "His life signs are unstable. I must raise his temperature."

"Hold on – we're hitting the planet's atmosphere. I'm going to try and push her past Warp 2 – we should be in communication range in 20 minutes, maybe a half hour, unless the Enterprise is traveling at Warp 8 or faster," reported Tasha.

"I'll see if I can route more power to the engines," Will said.

"Commander, that may prove dangerous to Lt. La Forge. I am attempting to convert the transporter to a medical stasis field. A reduction in power to the transporter would be counter to that end," Data said.

"Understood." Will looked over his shoulder. "What are his chances?"

Data's expression was grave. "The field medical kit is rudimentary. We must reach the Enterprise within an hour, two hours at most, or he may not survive."

Will turned to Tasha, who was trying to control her expression. "Do what you can to boost the engines without drawing power from the transporter."

"Aye, sir."

A tense silence settled over them. Data's clinical voice broke it after a short while. "Lt. Yar, set a reverse course for Vega Mar VI."

"Sir?" Tasha was incredulous.

"What is it, Data?" Will asked.

"We must return to the planet," Data replied. "This is _not _Geordi La Forge."


	3. Chapter 3

"Explain, Data," Will ordered.

"It would be more expeditious to show you, sir," Data replied.

"Course laid in. We'll be back in orbit in seven minutes," Tasha reported.

Will walked to the passenger area. "What is it?"

Data removed the visor from the motionless head on the floor. "You see, sir?"

"See what, Data? What am I looking for?"

"Geordi's implants. They are not present. These appear to be simple attachments to keep the visor in place." Data scanned them with a tricorder. "They barely penetrate the skin. Geordi's implants communicate with his brain."

"Only you could have noticed that, Mr. Data."

"A scan would have revealed the truth to anyone, sir," Data replied modestly. "Whoever attempted to clone Lt. La Forge could not duplicate his assistive device."

"Clone?" Will looked from Data to Tasha, who was throwing looks back at them over her shoulder.

"I believe that is what we are observing. Someone – or something – wanted us to believe that we found La Forge dying of hypothermia."

Tasha spoke up. "But if that … thing … isn't him –"

"Then Geordi must be back on the planet," Will finished.

"Yes. I also believe that we witnessed the beginning of the cloning process when we discovered you, Commander."

"So, the arms we saw coming out of that orange blob were Cdr. Riker's?" Tasha asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Will backed away from the prostrate form of Geordi's double and took a seat at ops. "What do we do with … that … in the meantime?"

"I recommend that we study it. This may be the secret technology that the Vareshk have been developing," said Data.

"I disagree, Commander," Tasha said. "That thing might pose a threat. They might be using him – it – as a listening device, or it might be dangerous. How can we tell?"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Lieutenant," Will said. "Our first priority is to find Lt. La Forge. And then I'd like to get some answers from our elusive hosts."

"Sir, how do we even know that the Vareshk are still at the outpost? Maybe what attacked you and cloned Geordi isn't a technological creation. Maybe it's a being," Tasha said.

"We won't know unless we go back."

"I recommend that we stay in orbit and beam directly into the station," said Tasha. "Whatever cloned Geordi was able to get to him inside the shuttle. There may be no way to secure the Sakharov from attack."

Will thought it over. Data watched them both, waiting for the commander's decision. "Lt. Yar has a valid point, sir."

Will nodded reluctantly. "I'll pilot the shuttle, but I don't think it's safe to leave the clone behind. I'll beam you two and that back down to the surface."

"Perhaps we should beam the clone to the original landing site," Data said.

"We're in transporter range now, sir," Tasha reported.

"Do it, Data. Tasha, I'll take the conn." Will took Tasha's seat as she stepped to the rear of the shuttle. Data propped the body against the wall of the transporter pad. His expression was unreadable as he watched it dematerialize.

Tasha handed him a palm beacon. "Should we take the EV suits?"

"Negative. They would only impede our movements." They stood on the transporter pad. Tasha set her phaser.

"Be careful. And bring him home," Will said.

"We will, sir," Tasha assured him.

"Energize."

They rematerialized in the deserted control center. Data scanned the area, and Tasha stalked through the room with a suspicious frown on her face, her phaser raised.

"Data, how do we know what we're seeing? Maybe this room has been abandoned for months, and it just looks like there were people here recently."

Data holstered his tricorder and stepped to a computer console. "Their long-range sensors have been activated. They would have detected our departure and our return."

She looked over his shoulder. "Can you pinpoint where they might be holding Geordi?"

"Most of the station grid is encrypted. I could attempt to break the code, but it would take time."

"Negative. We'll just have to search for him." Tasha tapped her combadge. "Lt. Yar to Cdr. Riker."

"Riker here."

"I'll leave this channel open, sir. We are commencing our search for Lt. La Forge."

"Acknowledged."

Tasha nodded at Data. "Let's stick together." She headed for the south corridor.

Data followed behind. "A colloquialism."

"Mm-hmm." She walked rapidly, the phaser in her right hand, a palm beacon in her left. Its bright beam illuminated the nearly featureless metal walls and floors with a blue-tinged light. Their footsteps rang out as they neared the dark area at the termination of the hall. Data added his light to Tasha's. A blank metal wall stood before them.

"Dead end," said Tasha.

"I didn't copy that, Lieutenant. You're breaking up." Will's voice over the comm. was marred by static and dead air.

"We're right by the blackout area, sir. Can you boost the signal from the shuttle?"

"…out now?"

"Spotty. Do you have a lock on us?"

"Barely."

Data was scanning the wall. "I believe I have found –" He pressed his fingers into four nearly invisible dimples just above their heads. The wall slid back to reveal a large lab lit with dim red lights, with a single Vareshk scientist seated before a computer console. He stood up quickly, his chair falling backwards, and reached into his lab coat pocket. Tasha reacted instantly, firing her phaser. He dropped to the floor with a grunt.

Tasha went to him as Data watched. "We might have talked to him, Lieutenant."

She pulled a disruptor pistol out of his pocket and tossed it to Data. "Don't think he was in the mood for talking."

Data raised an eyebrow and pinched the barrel shut with two fingers.

Tasha looked around the room, shining her palm beacon into the darkness. "What is this place?"

"Some type of research and development facility, from what I can observe," Data replied.

They explored the room, stepping over the stunned Vareshk.

"Data, look at this." Tasha pointed her light at a freestanding device, with two sets of restraints at the level of the wrists and ankles. "Maybe we can hold Sleeping Beauty until he wakes up. Then he can answer your questions."

Data measured the restraints with his eyes. "Negative. The Vareshk is too tall for this apparatus." Data circled around it. "However, it is the correct size for a human."

Tasha locked eyes with him. "We have to find Geordi and get out of here, now."

He gave her a short nod. "The exit is over here. It should lead to the interior of the area our sensors cannot detect."

"Can you secure this room?"

Data walked to the computer console and tapped rapidly at the interface. "Yes."

"Do it. Cdr. Riker, do you read me?"

There was no answer from her combadge. Tasha felt her mouth go dry.

"I have engaged the auto-lock," Data announced. "Once we exit this room, we will not be able to return."

"There must be some other way back to the hub. Can you find Geordi's life signs?"

"Negative. Whatever is blocking our communicators is also preventing tricorders from functioning."

"Understood." Tasha put her back to the doorframe and raised her phaser.

Data caught the atom of fear hiding deep in her eyes. "I will cover you. We will not be separated."

She exhaled and nodded. He nodded back once.

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

The door slid open onto an empty, dark hallway. Data bounced the light of the palm beacon to the right and left, shining it over Tasha's shoulder. He nodded to her, and they moved into the hall. A dim red bulb lit up.

"Motion sensors," Data said softly.

"Then we're going to have company soon," Tasha replied.

The low lights revealed piles of construction materials on the floor and loops of exposed optic cables hanging from the ceiling. As Data and Tasha moved down the long curve of the hallway, the light behind them would extinguish, and a new light would come on ahead, illuminating a reddish circle around them. The access panels along the walls were open, some with abandoned tools nearby.

"It looks like they're still building, just like the report indicated," Tasha said. She started to feel uncertain about her earlier actions.

"Yet, we have no explanation for the dampening effect on our sensors and instruments, nor for Geordi's disappearance," Data reminded her.

As they went forward, Tasha became aware of an odd sound. She couldn't pinpoint the source. It sounded like something sliding.

"Look out!" Data grabbed Tasha and yanked her backwards against him. An enormous orange mass plopped to the floor ahead of them, in the spot where Tasha had stood a second before. Data held her by the waist and rapidly backed up the way they'd came, shining his palm beacon on the ceiling. "Up there!" A second orange blob was oozing towards them, changing direction with a sliding and roiling motion deep inside its mass.

Tasha scrambled to keep pace with their backwards march. She aimed and fired, first at the blob on the floor, and then at the blob on the ceiling. They vaporized instantly. Data let her go.

"This place is a chamber of horrors! What are those things?" Tasha cried.

At the sound of fast approaching footsteps, Data took out his phaser. "Perhaps we shall soon find out. Leave at least one for questioning, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." She quickly thumbed her phaser setting to stun.

The lights ahead came on to reveal three Vareshk running towards them, one in a lab coat. They were tall humanoids with vestigial snouts and tiny eyes in the lower half of the face. They had flat, lobe-less ears on the back of an elongated cranium, with a circle of fine, bristly hair above. Along the cheekbones sprouted long white whiskers.

"Stop where you are!" Tasha ordered. The front Vareshk raised a disruptor. She stunned him and he dropped to the ground. The other two skidded to a stop and raised their hands to show that they were empty. Each digit ended in a long, tubular fingernail.

"Where are you holding Lt. La Forge?" Data asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," answered the alien scientist.

"Why have you attacked us? Why are you blocking our sensors?" Data continued.

The two aliens were silent.

Tasha raised her palm beacon and shone the light in their faces. "Answer him!"

The Vareshk shrieked and covered their tiny eyes with their hands. Data raised his eyebrows at Tasha. She shrugged and mouthed, "I was just being bad cop."

"Stop! You're blinding us!" cried the second alien.

"Answer the questions, and Lt. Yar will lower the beacon," Data said. "Where is Lt. La Forge?"

"We will take you to him. Turn it off!"

At a nod from Data, Tasha directed the beam to the floor. The two aliens shielded their eyes from it.

"Follow me," the scientist said.

"What about our comrade?" The second alien pointed to the motionless one on the floor.

"He's only stunned. He'll be fine," Tasha replied.

They began to walk down the curved hallway. "Why did you attack us?" Data asked again.

"We meant no harm. We simply wanted to study your species," the scientist answered.

"Then, why replace Lt. La Forge with a clone?" Tasha demanded.

The alien's snout twitched. "We wished to study him at leisure."

"Your actions will not reflect favorably upon the negotiations with the Federation," Data noted. "We came in peace, and you have treated us with hostility."

The two Vareshk made distressed snuffling sounds. "We were wary of your intentions. We needed to study your human species, to assess your trustworthiness."

"You are holding a Starfleet officer against his will," Data said. "Involuntary confinement is abhorrent to most humanoid species, including your own, regardless of the motivation."

Tasha kept her phaser trained on the Vareshk as they proceeded, darting her eyes up and around as the dim lights went off and on. They reached a bulkhead, and the second alien tapped a code into the control panel with his long fingernails. The doors retracted into the ceiling and floor. The entryway was crisscrossed with laser beams. The alien tapped at the panel again, and the beams disappeared.

"Lead the way," Tasha ordered. The two aliens stepped through the doorway. Tasha and Data followed behind.

A single Vareshk orderly sat at a computer console inside. He arose at their approach.

"Stay where you are," said Tasha. "We've come for our comrade."

"Bring the human," the scientist ordered, his whiskers twitching.

The orderly left the room. Data stood back far enough to watch the open doorway and the interior of the room.

"Hey, hands off, buddy." They heard Geordi before they could see him. "Just tell me where you're taking me this time. I said, hands off!" Geordi and the orderly emerged into the dimly lit space.

"Are you unharmed, Geordi?" Data asked.

"I've had some memory loss, but other than that, I'm all right." He stood beside Tasha.

"You have your comrade. Now go," ordered the Vareshk scientist.

"First, you must disengage the device that you are employing to block our sensors," Data said.

"Unacceptable. We will not be subjected to your scans."

"Then you must provide us with safe passage to the station hub," Data replied.

The scientist looked to the other alien. "That is acceptable."

"Hold on, Commander," Geordi interjected. "We're not leaving without the other officer."

"What other officer?" asked Tasha.

"Outrageous!" said the Vareshk scientist simultaneously.

Geordi half smiled. "I can see in the dark even better than you can, stretch. I saw the heat signature of your other prisoner as clear as day."

Data leveled a look at the scientist. "Is this true?"

The alien raised his snout, revealing three square yellow teeth. "We will take you to him."

Data exchanged looks with Tasha and Geordi. "Lead the way."

The orderly moved to sit back down at the console, but Tasha beckoned him with her head. "All of you."

The three aliens led them deeper into the shadows. Tasha and Data aimed their palm beacons at the floor. The Vareshk seemed to have no trouble navigating in pitch darkness. They stopped before a cell enclosed by a humming force field. A human in a mustard-colored uniform lay on a bunk inside, with his back to the wall.

Data approached the force field. "Ensign, are you all right?"

The young man opened his eyes and slowly sat up. "Starfleet officers. Oh, thank god. Are you real? Am I saved?"

"We're real," Tasha assured him.

"Lower the force field," Data ordered.

The alien orderly began to tap at the cell's control panel.

When Tasha heard the sliding sound this time, she knew exactly where to look. She pointed her palm beacon at the ceiling. "Look out above!" she called. She aimed her phaser at the orange mass. The alien scientist took that moment to reach into his lab coat pocket. Geordi shoved him to the floor, and his disruptor skittered away. Geordi lunged to retrieve it first. Tasha fired at the orange glob, which glowed and rippled and dropped to the floor with a wet smack. She thumbed the setting on her phaser. Data spun around to help her. The orderly tapped quickly at the control panel, and a powdery red flash zapped from the emitters of the cell, engulfing Data in a vermilion glow. He froze mid-motion, and his momentum carried him to the floor.

"Data!" Geordi and Tasha shouted at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5

Tasha shone her light into the eyes of the alien orderly. He shrieked and covered them with his hands. The ensign inside the cell leapt to his feet and pointed to the sliding orange mass on the floor. "Don't let it touch you! It'll knock you out if it touches you!" Tasha fired at it, and it vaporized.

Geordi rolled to his feet with the disruptor in hand and covered the scientist and the second alien. Tasha aimed her phaser at the orderly and walked forward slowly. She knelt beside Data. He lay motionless where he'd fallen.

"Turn off the dampening field, and call off the horror show on the ceiling," Tasha ordered, her voice low and even.

Geordi gestured with the disruptor, corralling the three aliens together. They snuffled at each other, their whiskers twitching frantically.

"Turn off the dampening field, and call off your monsters!" Tasha shouted, "Now!"

"Should I find out if this is set to stun?" Geordi asked nonchalantly, raising the disruptor.

"Hold your fire," the scientist said. He went cautiously to the computer, his tiny eyes on Geordi, and tapped at the interface with his tubular fingernails. He looked over at Tasha and raised his snout, baring his yellow teeth.

She tapped her combadge. "Yar to Riker."

"Riker here."

"Standby to beam up four, sir. And Cdr. Data has been injured."

"Acknowledged."

Tasha turned her attention back to the scientist. "Release him," she ordered, indicating the ensign with her head. The alien scientist tapped at the computer interface again. The force field came down, and the ensign stepped through the doorway in a daze. Geordi backed up to join the other officers.

"Energize," Tasha said.

They rematerialized on the shuttle transporter pad. Tasha grabbed the med kit and pulled the probe out of the tricorder, while Geordi laid Data on the floor in passenger area.

"What happened?" Will demanded.

"The aliens had captured another officer. We had to rescue him," Tasha reported.

"What's your name, Ensign?" Geordi asked.

"Sanjay Mehta. I'm an engineer posted to the Ajax." He sat down on the starboard passenger bench.

Tasha was crouched over Data, scanning him with a look of agitation on her face. He was frozen in his last posture, his arms out and his eyes open. "I don't know if these readings are good or bad – I don't know what his baselines are," she said, her voice quickly becoming desperate.

"That blast should've killed him. How did he survive?" Sanjay asked.

"He's an android," Geordi answered. He touched Tasha's shoulder. "Why don't you check Mehta's vitals? Let me help Data."

She nodded and stood, and waved the probe around the engineer.

"An android? You're from the flagship – the Enterprise," Sanjay said with awe. "The senior staff manifest was broadcast just before the mission to Vega Mar VI. My girlfriend and I were talking about how great it would be to serve aboard one of the new galaxy class ships." He broke off suddenly. "Oh, my god. Marlene … she must think I'm dead …"

"Can one of you tell me exactly what happened?" Riker asked. "What's our next move?"

"The Vareshk laid a trap for us, sir," Geordi answered. "They never intended to ask for our help."

"They were trying to infiltrate the Federation," Sanjay went on. "They were using genetically modified coalescent cells to clone humans."

"Like the clone we found of Geordi," Tasha added.

"_What?_" Geordi was shocked. "I don't remember that. One minute I was in the shuttle, the next, those mole people were dragging me to a cell."

"We found what we thought was you outside the shuttle in the snow. Data was the one who discovered the truth," Will explained.

"Data …" Geordi replaced the probe in the tricorder. "His cognitive functions seem to be operating. He just can't move. That blast must've shorted out a primary connection in his motor functions."

"Then our next move is to get him back to the Enterprise. I'm going to launch a warning beacon and declare this star system off-limits to Federation vessels," Will decided.

"Wait!" Sanjay was suddenly panicked. "What if I'm still down there?"

Geordi and Tasha shared a look. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"The Vareshk were experimenting on me for months. They'd put me in this … contraption, and hold me by my arms and legs. They left my head free, so I could see that goop when they dropped it on me. As soon as it touches you, everything goes dark. They did it so many times, I don't know, I might have brain damage. They were trying to make the clones better, more believable. Trying to get them to walk and talk. What if they succeeded? What if I'm just a clone and the real me is still down there, trapped in the restraints, begging for mercy?" Sanjay hid his face in his hands, and his shoulders started to shake.

Tasha dropped the tricorder and put her arms around him while he sobbed.

"I didn't see anyone else but you down there," Geordi reassured him.

"I scanned the area when they stopped blocking our sensors," Will added. "There were no other human life forms."

"You're really here," Tasha said, "You're safe." He put his head down on her shoulder.

"Launching beacon," Will reported. "Setting a rendezvous course with the Enterprise, Warp 1.5."

They left orbit and space folded around them, the stars elongating into silver streaks in the black.

Sanjay wiped the tears from his eyes. "I can't believe you found me. I never thought I'd escape."

Tasha released him and patted his back. "It's all right now."

"Did they interrogate you?" Geordi asked.

Sanjay nodded. "Sometimes they'd starve me. And then they'd feed me, get me healthy for their filthy experiments – I don't want to think with what. All those discarded clones … I don't know what became of them. I still told them nothing."

Geordi shivered. "What did you do with the one you found of me?" he asked.

There was silence for several moments. Will finally broke it. "We left it on the planet's surface."

"Creepy," Geordi said. "I hate to think –"

A whisper of sound came from Data's lips. Tasha rushed to join Geordi on the floor beside him.

"Ennngaginnng sssecondary sssystemmmms…"

"Data, can you hear us?" Geordi asked. Tasha wrung her hands.

"Affffirmative." Data's eyes blinked for the first time since they'd beamed into the shuttle. "Reroutinnng … ssstand by…."

"What's happening?" Will asked.

The lifeless expression on Data's face was chilling. Then, his arms dropped to the floor, and he sat straight up from the waist. "If you would assist me to passenger seating …" he said in his normal voice.

Tasha and Geordi both exhaled noisily with relief. They helped him to sit in the swiveling chair across from Sanjay.

"I have rerouted automatic repairs from my locomotive servos to voice production and language circuits. It is more important that I communicate rather than move at this time."

"Are you all right?" Tasha held her fists firmly to her sides.

"I require assistance to return to normal operations," Data replied.

"Increasing speed to Warp 2. Geordi, I could use a hand up here," Will said.

"Aye, sir." Geordi squeezed Data's shoulder. "Glad to have you back, my friend." He crossed to the front of the shuttle and took a seat at ops.

With a glance at Sanjay, Tasha bent and put her arms around Data, hugging him tight. "I was so scared for you," she whispered.

"If you don't mind my asking," Sanjay said, "Is the replicator programmed with Tandoori chicken?"

Tasha let Data go. "I'm sorry. You must be starving. I think so."

"God, I was dreaming about it while I was in that hell hole."

"Let me help you." Tasha went to the replicator. "We could all probably use some food."

"Anything but toast with jam," Geordi said from the front.

An hour into the flight, Sanjay lay across the starboard bench, asleep. The shuttle's blue running lights illuminated Geordi and Will's faces at regular intervals as the two officers filled out their reports. Data had regained some motor functions in his cranial unit, and his expression had gone from completely cold and blank to normal neutrality. Tasha sat in his lap. She had moved when Sanjay had started falling asleep. Neither Will nor Geordi commented on her choice of perch.

"Are we in communication range?" Will asked Geordi.

"Any minute now. I'll keep trying to hail them, sir."

Tasha wrote her report with a stylus and padd. She pressed her back into Data's chest. "Can you feel me now?" she asked quietly.

"Affirmative. I have reintialized the nano-circuitry in my upper torso and regained tactile sensation in that area."

She put her arm around him and her lips next to his ear. "How about your lower torso?"

Data looked abashed. "Lieutenant…"

She pursed her lips in a silent kiss and sat up. "Can you move yet?"

"Negative. The severed circuits in my primary motor connections are too severely damaged." Data raised his voice. "Geordi, I would ask you to rebuild the micro-circuitry that governs my servomechanisms when we return to the ship."

Geordi gulped. "Data, I'm no cyberneticist."

"I will be able to talk you through the procedure. Will you help me?"

"Of course, Data. I'll do my best."

Data gave a satisfied grunt.

Across from him, Sanjay suddenly sat bolt upright with a cry. He scanned the passenger area, panic in his eyes, panting through his open mouth.

Tasha got up and went to him. "Hey, it's okay – you're safe, remember?"

Sanjay wiped his face with his hands. "Ah … I was dreaming … I had a nightmare. I thought I was back at the station."

Tasha rubbed his back and gave a look of pity to Data. He looked back at her completely straight-faced, and cocked his head to one side.

"They're returning our hail, sir," Geordi reported.

"Riker to Enterprise."

"Picard here."

"Sir, the mission did not go as planned. We've rescued a Starfleet officer from the Vareshk. You'll be receiving our full reports momentarily."

"Acknowledged."

"ETA 1.5 hours. And, Captain?"

"Yes, Number One?"

"Have Counselor Troi standing by when we arrive."

"Understood."

"Riker out."


	6. Chapter 6

The Sakharov docked in shuttlebay one. The captain, counselor, and chief medical officer were all standing by. Two medical assistants waited with a hovering stretcher. The shuttle doors opened, and Will and Geordi alighted with Data between them in a basket carry. The med assistants hurried to get him situated on the stretcher.

Beverly scanned him with the tricorder probe. "How's your condition, Data?"

"I have regained forty percent of my motor functions, but the main juncture for my locomotive servos is damaged beyond my ability to self-repair. I have asked Lt. La Forge to assist us," he replied.

"We'll have you on your feet in no time. Let's go." Beverly gestured to Geordi and all five of them left the shuttlebay.

The captain greeted Sanjay as he emerged from the shuttle. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Mehta. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard. This is Deanna Troi, ship's counselor."

"Thank you, sir. Pleased to meet you," Sanjay replied.

Deanna gave him a warm handshake. "We've sent a message to your commanding officer on the Ajax. He was surprised and happy to hear that you were alive. We've asked him to hold off on announcing it to the crew until we've had a chance to talk."

"Thank you, Counselor. I'd like to get to that right away."

"Of course. I'll show you to your quarters. We can send a message from there," Deanna said.

Sanjay nodded. "Captain, Commander, Lieutenant," he said, nodding to each by way of goodbye. Deanna and Sanjay headed to the exit. He looked back. "Lt. Yar, thanks again. You saved my life." He gave her a grateful smile and walked on with Deanna out of the shuttlebay.

Picard turned to his first officer. "Well, Number One, you've had quite the adventure."

"Never a dull moment," Will replied with a grin.

"Good work, both of you," Picard went on.

"Thank you, Captain," said Tasha.

Tasha and Will followed Picard out of the shuttlebay. "But, Lt. Yar, after reading your report, I may be off marmalade for life."

* * *

><p>Beverly and Geordi worked in concert in sickbay. Data sat upright on a biobed in the same posture he'd maintained in the shuttle. A long flap of bioplastic skin and synthetic hair was pulled back to reveal a network of diodes and circuitry below.<p>

"Magnify quadrant 1A by two hundred percent," Data directed. The image on the sensor screen enlarged. "I believe we have located the damaged area."

"Those positronic gap junctions have been completely fused," Geordi said. "I'll have to refine the beam of the spanner to its narrowest width. I may have to modify it."

"We could use the electron microspanner. Its beam is small enough to target individual t-cells," Beverly suggested.

"An excellent idea, Doctor," Data said.

She gave him a wry smile. "I've never had a patient talk me through a procedure before."

"There's a first time for everything," Geordi said. This was his first time seeing the inner workings of his best friend. His amazement had quickly given way to admiration. Whoever had constructed Data was a genius, pure and simple.

"I'm going to use the automating interface to perform the repairs," Beverly announced. "It will translate my movements to the appropriate scale. We'll use a robot to fix an android."

"An amusing notion," Data said. "Please proceed."

* * *

><p>Sanjay sat before the monitor in guest quarters as the captain of the Ajax talked on in a thick southern accent. Deanna stood close at hand.<p>

"Ensign, I just don't understand. Cdr. S'val saw it with his own eyes. He reported that you asphyxiated when you got trapped in a pocket of methane in the underground passage to the station. We buried your corpse in space."

"Sir, I know it's hard to believe," Sanjay replied. "The clones the Vareshk produced were nearly perfect physical representations of their victims, but they couldn't move or talk. The Vareshk faked my death, sir, and they tried to pull the same trick with the Enterprise. But they failed."

A voice off-screen broke in. "Captain Garling, Kosinski is ready for the first tests."

"Number One, I said I was not to be disturbed!" the captain thundered back.

"I'm sorry, sir. He was adamant about proceeding immediately," the first officer replied from off-screen.

"He's adamant about a lot of things," Capt. Garling grumbled. "I'll have to cut this short, Ensign. We'll talk again before we rendezvous. First, we have to transfer this jackass who's commandeered my engineering section over to the Fearless. Then he can become their problem."

"Understood, sir," Sanjay replied. "Before you go –"

"Yes, Ensign?"

"Does Marlene – does Petty Officer LeBrun know that I'm alive?" Sanjay asked.

"She's meeting with Counselor Foster today, Ensign. He'll break the news to her gently. She's been coping with, well, what we thought was your death as best as she could, but I can imagine it's been hard for her. I know she'll be as shocked to hear that you're alive as I was."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the information. I'm much obliged."

"Garling out." The image of the white-haired captain was replaced with the UFP seal.

Sanjay turned to Deanna. "What now, Counselor?"

"Well, how are you feeling?" Deanna asked.

"I don't know. Sort of … numb."

"Why don't you get some rest, and we'll talk as soon as you're ready," she suggested.

Sanjay looked around the guest cabin. "I'm not sure if I can handle being alone right now. I just … don't know."

"We could talk now, if you like."

Sanjay nodded and got to his feet. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."

Deanna patted his back. "Let's go to my office. And I'll show you more of the ship, if you'd like." She kept a hand on his shoulder as they walked out the door.

* * *

><p>"I've reattached the last fibroid connection. Try it now, Data," Beverly said.<p>

He wiggled his bare toes. "Signal transfer successful, Doctor. I am now operating within normal parameters."

Geordi and Beverly shared a look of triumph. "Wonderful! I'm going to close." Beverly sealed the flap of Data's skull, returning him to his human appearance once more.

Geordi handed Data his socks and boots as Beverly put away the tools. "I learned more about you today than I expected to, Data."

"Same here," Beverly agreed. "I feel well prepared to repair you, if you should ever be damaged again."

"Damaged," Data repeated, fastening his boots and stepping down from the biobed. "Not injured."

Beverly took a breath. "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean –"

"No offense taken, Doctor. It is an adequate term for a machine. May I return to duty?" Data asked.

"Well, yes, Commander, but maybe you should take it easy," Beverly replied.

"I do not require recovery time. All systems are operating at one hundred percent efficiency. Thank you for your assistance, Doctor. Geordi." Data nodded to them both and left sickbay.

Beverly still looked chagrined. "You know I didn't mean to imply that he was a thing, Geordi. But it is a little different to know that he's a machine, than to _see _that he's a machine."

"Don't worry about it, Doc. It was kind of unsettling for me, too. I'll talk to him." Geordi left to find his friend.

He caught up with Data at the turbolift. The doors opened, and they both got on.

"Deck two," Data said. The car sped its way to the top of the ship.

"Are you sure you're all right, Data?" Geordi asked.

There was silence for a few seconds. "Do you think of me differently, now that you have seen irrefutable evidence that I am not human?" Data asked.

"No, Data, of course not. I mean, it was a little strange, but I've always known intellectually what you're made of," Geordi answered.

"But, as the human aphorism says, 'seeing is believing.'" The doors opened, and the two officers stepped out. "It gives me cause to wonder if my creators intentionally made my appearance slightly unlike a human's, so that the illusion would not be complete. The disgust that Cdr. Riker and Lt. Yar showed for the Vareshki clones reinforces the supposition that humans have an instinctive aversion to a simulacrum of themselves."

"Maybe they were disgusted by the Vareshki motives. They made those clones to trap us, and they tried to hurt us," Geordi said.

"Perhaps. As I said, it gives me cause to wonder." They had reached Data's quarters. "I must complete my report on our mission. Goodnight, Geordi." Data went inside.

Geordi compressed his lips and doubled back to his own cabin.

* * *

><p>Data was cross-referencing the mission reports of his crewmates when his door chime sounded. "Enter," he said. He rose to greet Tasha when she came in.<p>

"We missed you at dinner. You didn't come to Ten-forward," she said.

"No."

"Is everything okay? You look … out of sorts."

Data cocked his head at her. "I have been devoting a greater portion of my cognitive functions than normal to the analysis of our most recent mission."

"Well, that explains the pensive look. I've been thinking about it, too. It's pretty hard to shake."

Data grunted his agreement.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tasha asked.

"Negative," Data answered. "I would prefer to cogitate alone."

She nodded. "You know where to find me if you change your mind." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and turned to go. The doors opened, but she suddenly turned around. They closed behind her as she walked back and threw her arms around him, hugging him hard. "I was so worried for you. I didn't like seeing you hurt." She leaned up and rapidly kissed his lips, his cheeks, his chin, as if to physically reassure herself that he was sound.

Data looked at her closed eyes for a moment, and then put his arms around her and captured her darting lips with his. He did not wish to divert too much energy away from the conundrum he was pondering, but he thought it important to acknowledge her worry and relief. Tasha relaxed and kissed him back, loosening her grip on him and running her hands over his back and sides. She finally broke away.

"I'm glad you're alright," she said, taking his hands in hers.

"I am functioning within normal parameters," he assured her.

"Good to hear. Good night." She gave his hands a parting squeeze and left.

Data sat back down at his computer workstation. He resumed his task, but diverted some of the neurons firing along his synapses to access his memory cells. The reactions of the various officers to his injury had all been different. Running side-by-side comparisons, he was inclined to prefer Tasha's response to the others, but the singularity of her attitude was to be expected, and completely appropriate. His pensive look lifted somewhat as he replayed the experience again. He was certain that he preferred her response.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been five days since the shelter had been bombed, and two days since they'd had anything in their stomachs besides water. Ishara knew better than to complain, but Tasha could tell from the sunken hollows beneath her sister's eyes and the distention of her belly that she was starving. She'd seen enough bloated, fly-blown corpses to recognize the signs. They would have to go into the city and find food.

Tasha grabbed Ishara's hand and led her away from the smoke-scarred rubble that was all that remained of the shelter. In her other hand, Ishara clutched a collection of cloth scraps and twine tied up to look like a doll. She nibbled and sucked on its ragged ends as she followed her sister. They ignored the gaunt, pale-skinned junkies lying in doorways, and the dead-eyed prostitutes that leaned out of windows. They crossed away from the groups of adolescent boys who lounged with seeming laziness on the crumbling corners of buildings. Tasha was always telling Ishara to avoid the big kids. They needed to find more little kids, like them.

They finally found three little boys huddled around each other and eating something, hiding whatever it was in the middle of their group like wary jackals.

Tasha walked right up to them. "Where'd you get that?" she demanded.

"Offa kid couldn't keep 'em all," one boy answered.

"Where'd he get 'em?"

"Fat Zeke's. Just got his hands on a shipment of protein bars."

Ishara was staring at the food the boys still had left. Tasha dragged her away by the arm. "Come on."

Zeke's Emporium was a pre-fab general depot near the center of the city, in an area that was neutral territory, at least for the moment. The girls entered the corrugated metal building. Dust and trash was piled up in the corners, and sagging metal shelves held everything from construction materials to clothes. Tasha motioned for her sister to stand near the door.

Zeke was a monstrously fat human, an anomaly in a colony overrun with poverty. He had a full, unkempt beard and a few straggly hairs at the back of his sweating pate. He was wrapping together lengths of PVC tubing with plastic zip ties.

Tasha didn't say hello or wait for him to acknowledge her. "Heard you got a shipment of protein bars," she said.

Zeke spat on the floor. "What's it to you, nit?"

"My sister and I need food. We haven't eaten in days."

He tossed the bundle of pipes on a shelf and wiped his dirty hands on his dirtier apron. "Not my problem."

"I can work for it," Tasha said. "I can read and write and do math. I can count your stock for you."

Zeke gave her a mirthless grin, revealing a mouthful of rotting teeth. "Don't need no help from a thieving gutter rat."

"Please." Reason hadn't worked. It was time to start begging. "Look at us. We're starving."

Ishara took her cue to put on her most pathetic face. Tasha knew that, no matter how dirty she was, her sister's big blue eyes could charm the skin off a snake.

But Zeke wasn't looking at Ishara. He was looking at Tasha, and the look was sending prickles of fear down her spine. She had officially entered puberty a few months before, with a monthly nuisance adding to their needs for supplies. Since then, her flat, boyish body had begun sprouting breasts and hips, and she'd been growing so fast that it hurt. As soon as she tracked down a decent set of clothes, she outgrew them, but they were too big to fit Ishara. The clothes she had on now were too tight, and drew attention where it wasn't wanted.

"Why don't we go in the back and discuss it?" Zeke asked. He wiped his greasy hands on his apron front again.

Tasha backed away to the door. "C'mon, Shara. Let's go."

"But I'm hungry!" the little girl whined. She was going on with the drill as usual, not noticing the fear in her sister's eyes. "Please, mister, we're starving!"

"Shut up. C'mon." Tasha grabbed Ishara's hand and dragged her to the doorway.

"Wait, kid." Zeke pulled a key from his apron pocket and unlocked a strongbox. He pulled out several dusty-looking bricks with torn wrappers. "These opened up in transit. Won't be able to unload 'em. Here. Take 'em." He handed the pile to Tasha.

She took them and started hiding them in Ishara's jacket, tucking the bars into hidden pockets. "Thanks," Tasha said. They turned to go.

Zeke grabbed the back of Tasha's collar and yanked her so hard that her shirtfront bit into her throat. "Hold on, you little tramp. We haven't settled on payment, yet."

"Shara, run!" Tasha cried. Zeke clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit him as hard as she could, until she tasted blood. He yelled and let her go. Tasha spat and shouted, "Run!"

Ishara needed no further encouragement; she lit out of the depot like her feet were wheels. Tasha tried to follow her, but found her legs heavy and leaden, as if she were underwater. Zeke grabbed her and pushed her face-first against a shelf. He tore at her waistband with his other hand. Tasha screamed and turned her head to see that Zeke had been replaced by a giant orange blob with human arms. She screamed again and again.

The sound of her own voice finally awakened Tasha. She was sitting upright in bed with tears streaming down her face. She looked around her dark room, the hideous images quickly fading from her mind. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath through her mouth.

"Computer, what time is it?"

"The time is now 02:31."

It had been ages since she'd had night terrors. The doctors had said that their frequency lessened with age. She'd assumed that they'd meant the night terrors would cease altogether; it wasn't the case after all. So many elements of the dream had seemed real. It was an amalgam of memories, all too present to easily put aside.

"Computer, location of Counselor Troi."

"Counselor Troi is in her quarters."

Probably fast asleep. It wouldn't be right to wake her. "Where is Lt. Cdr. Data?"

"Lt. Cdr. Data is located on the bridge."

Working gamma shift. She just needed someone to talk to. She didn't want to go back to sleep yet, for fear that the nightmare images would return.

A thought occurred to her. "Where is Ensign Mehta?"

"Ensign Mehta is located in Ten-forward."

"Computer: lights." Tasha got out of bed. She wasn't surprised that the poor guy couldn't sleep, either.

* * *

><p>Ten-forward was empty, save for the bartender and Ensign Mehta, sitting alone at the bar. Tasha took a seat on the stool next to him.<p>

"Mind if I join you?"

Sanjay shook his head. He drained his shot glass and tapped it with his finger.

The bartender refilled it. "Can I get you anything, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"No, thanks." Tasha turned to Sanjay. "Trouble sleeping?"

He took a sip of his drink. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in the lab with those mole people. The doc offered me some drugs to help me sleep, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to wake up if I took them. I'd be stuck in my nightmares."

"I know what you mean," Tasha said. "I just woke up from a hell of a nightmare."

"The coalescent cells?" Sanjay asked. She nodded. "It's horrifying. Imagine you're trapped somewhere, and no one comes to save you, because your double exists somewhere else."

"Horrifying," Tasha agreed. She signaled to the bartender. "On second thought, could I have a hot toddy?" She shrugged at Sanjay. "Maybe it'll help me sleep."

Sanjay knocked back another slug of whiskey. "Forget sleep. I seek oblivion."

"Not gonna get too far with synthehol. Thank you," she said, as the bartender set down her drink.

They sat in silence for a minute, staring into their glasses.

"You were really brave at the outpost," Sanjay said.

Tasha snorted. "I was scared out of my gourd. That just never seems to stop me, though."

"Lt. Cdr. Data was really brave, too."

"I know," Tasha said with a proud smile. "He's amazing."

"I'm sorry he got hurt rescuing me. Is he all right?"

"He's fine, now."

Sanjay tapped his empty glass. "Wish I could say the same for myself. And I'm worried about my girlfriend, too. I'm not the same man I was three months ago. I don't know how she'll take it."

"How long have you been together?" Tasha asked.

Sanjay watched as the bartender refilled his shot glass. "Two years. We met at Starbase 73, working in the transporter room. We were lucky to get posted to the same ship. We were so happy to get a deep space assignment. We thought it would be this grand adventure."

"It is," she said, leaning towards him. "It still can be."

"I've had my fill of adventure," Sanjay said bitterly. "Now, I just want my sanity."

They drank their drinks in silence.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Tasha felt tired enough to go back to her quarters. She undressed and got into bed, and hoped for dreamless sleep.<p>

She was back in the dark corridors of the outpost on Vega Mar VI, Data's palm beacon shining over her shoulder. The blue-white beam provided the only illumination. Tasha kept looking up, watching the ceiling for danger.

The beam of light got further and further away. "Data, don't leave me alone here," Tasha said. He didn't answer. "Data?" She tried to turn on her own palm beacon, but it had disappeared, along with her phaser. Her uniform had morphed into an ill-fitting suit of clothes, grayish-black with grime and sweat. The far-off pinpoint of light became two, then four, then seven beams shining in the darkness. Coming closer.

She crouched down. She wasn't sure if she should run or hide. If she ran, they might catch her, and this time, they might not let her live. If she hid, they might still find her, and then she'd have nowhere to run. She could hear their voices now.

"Come on out and play, pretty girl!"

"Yoo-hoo! Wanna play button, button?"

"Can't hide forever, girly. C'mon, we won't hurt you. Much."

And the laughter and jeers of the rest. The beams of lights were getting closer. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. Run or hide? Run or hide? Their flashlights were so close now. She knew from experience that they were heavy enough to double as nightsticks. So close…almost on top of her….

The vibration and glow of her alarm jolted Tasha out of the dream. She touched its metal surface, and the sound and light disappeared. Her heart was still pounding.

"Lt. Yar to Counselor Troi," Tasha said aloud in the darkness.

A sleepy voice answered. "Troi here."

"Deanna, do you have any time for me in your schedule today?"

"Of course, Tasha." A pause. "I have an opening at 1700 hours. Will that work?"

"Mm-hmm. See you then."

"See you then. Tasha, are you feeling okay?"

"It can wait until 1700. Yar out."

Tasha's eyes were adjusting to the darkness. "Computer, open shutters." The black shades retracted from her windows with a soft whirr. Tasha watched the stars outside wink by, and waited for her heartbeat to slow back down to normal.


	8. Chapter 8

At five minutes to 0700, Tasha got on the turbolift and headed for the bridge. The car stopped on deck two, and Geordi got on.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," he greeted her.

"Hardly."

"Rough night?" Geordi asked. Tasha nodded. "Same here. Lotta bad dreams."

"Me, too," Tasha said. The doors opened on the bridge, where Data was nearly finished giving the overnight report to Riker. "What kind of bad dreams?"

Geordi paused at her station. "I dreamt that I'd switched places with the clone, and the shuttle left me behind in the snow."

Tasha tsked. "I dreamt about the station, too. And the colony where I grew up – it all kind of blended together."

"I have the bridge," Will said.

Geordi went to take the helm, and Data walked up the ramp to the turbolift. They nodded to each other as they passed.

Tasha stopped Data with a touch at his elbow. "Commander…"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

Tasha looked around at the fully staffed bridge and dropped her hand. "Good morning," she said lamely.

He looked at her with concern. "Is something troubling you?"

"No, Data." Her eyes blatantly contradicted her words. She made it obvious enough for him to comprehend.

"Shall we talk later?" he asked quietly.

Tasha nodded. He got on the turbolift and turned to face the closing doors.

"Ensign Mehta was troubled by his dreams, too, Geordi," Tasha said.

"Did you have nightmares last night?' Will asked.

"Yes, sir. Some real doozies," Geordi answered.

"Me, too."

"You, Commander?" Tasha asked.

"Yeah." Will hesitated. "I dreamt that you all got back to the shuttle, but you were clones. It got worse from there."

"There must've been something in the air. Seems like we all dreamt about the mission," Geordi said.

"Everyone except Data," Tasha pointed out.

"Yeah," Geordi agreed. "Lucky him."

* * *

><p>Tasha went in search of Data during the lunch break. The computer had pinpointed him in holodeck four. The bulkhead doors opened on the woodland program. Tasha crossed a path of boulders through a shallow stream, following the sound of his voice coming out of the trees on the other side.<p>

"'Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air.'"

"Data?" She could hear him, but she hadn't yet found him. She brushed low-hanging branches out of the way.

"'And, like the insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.'"

She finally spied him, a dot of yellow high up in the green. "How did you get up there?"

"I climbed," Data answered.

"Well, come down here."

"As you wish. If you would assist me to catch –"

She put her hands out and into them dropped a substantial tome. She watched Data descend as nimbly as a squirrel from his perch in the crook of a walnut tree. He jumped down the last few meters.

"What is this?"

"It is a book." Data took it from her and tucked it under his arm.

"I can see that, Data. Why are you reading from a book?"

"As an experience. It is a gift from Capt. Picard. He suggested that both the contents and the substance of the book present the best, most complete repository of what humanity has to offer."

"Capt. Picard gave you a gift?" Tasha was impressed. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Data replied. "It was apropos of nothing."

"That's the best kind of gift – a gift from the heart." She linked her arm through his, and they strolled down the sun-dappled forest path. "What were you reading?"

"A speech from 'The Tempest'. Capt. Picard recommended that I read aloud to fully appreciate the genius of The Bard."

"The Bard?" Tasha wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes, I'm not sure if we're speaking the same language."

"You had a matter that you wished to discuss?"

"More like a question: will you stay with me tonight?"

"Yes, of course," Data replied.

"Good." She gave his arm a squeeze. "I don't want to be alone."

Data thought this an atypical sentiment from her, but decided not to comment on it. "I work beta shift. I will be off duty at 2300 hours."

"I might be asleep by then – I couldn't get much sleep last night. If I don't answer the intercom, just use your override, okay?"

"Very well."

She gave him another squeeze and let him go. "I've gotta get some chow. See you tonight."

"Until tonight. 'Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night until it be morrow.'"

Tasha gave him an annoyed look and skipped over the boulders in the stream to the exit. Data placidly turned back to the copse of trees.

* * *

><p>The mauves and teals of Counselor Troi's office presented a tranquil, muted backdrop to Tasha's vivid agitation. She wondered what it was about therapy that always made her feel keyed up. Wasn't it supposed to have the opposite effect?<p>

"What do _you _think it means?" Deanna was asking.

"Well, I don't know – it was so jumbled together – images from the colony mixed with images from Vega Mar VI. I don't know what to think," Tasha replied, jiggling one leg over the other.

"Did it trouble you when Cdr. Data was hurt?"

"Well, yes. And when Cdr. Riker and Geordi were, too. In fact, everyone on the mission was hurt …" A light dawned in Tasha's eyes. "Except me."

"How does that make you feel?" asked Deanna.

"It's my job to protect the crew. I'd gladly sacrifice myself to save any one of them, in a heartbeat."

Deanna's dark eyes were neutral and calm. "What makes you feel that way?"

"It's my duty," Tasha answered immediately.

"If it were to come to that, it is the duty of every member of Starfleet to put the safety of others ahead of our own. But I'm asking you a different question. Do you feel guilty that you escaped unscathed?"

Tasha let out a long sigh. "Survivor's guilt. Maybe that's what triggered the nightmares."

"It could be," Deanna said.

"I guess, sometimes, I still feel like I live on borrowed time, that by all the odds, I never should've made it off that god-forsaken rock. Why did I get the chance to escape?"

"When so many others chose to stay?" Deanna asked.

"They didn't know any better. Even a pit can feel like home, if you sit in it long enough," Tasha said.

"Can you see any other parallels?"

Tasha thought it over. "I've been on more treacherous missions. But I felt like there was something greater than our lives at stake on the outpost. It's as if we were fighting for our _souls._ The sight of Geordi dying was so horrible…and then, to find out that it wasn't him, that we almost left him behind with those _monsters_…"

Deanna reached for her hand, and Tasha let her take it. "Was there anyone on the colony that you left behind?"

"It was impossible to have friends on the colony," Tasha answered. "It was every man for himself."

Deanna kept probing. "There was no one you cared for? No one you loved? Not even one person?"

"Loved?" Tasha withdrew her hand from Deanna's. "It didn't exist."

Deanna leveled a look at her. "I can feel that you're holding something back, Tasha. It might help you, if you let it out."

Tasha tried to clear her mind. "I have memories that I don't care to relive, Troi. Memories that can only hurt me."

"We could try hypnosis –"

"No," Tasha said, a little too forcefully. "Some things are meant to stay in the past."

Deanna regarded her steadily. "I can only help you if you let me. Ultimately, you have to decide what you're willing to do to recover completely."

"Is it even possible?" Tasha asked. "Whenever I think my past is truly behind me, something comes up and knocks me on my keister, and I feel like I'm right back where I started."

Deanna gave her a kind smile. "You know that's not true. Look how far you've come – nothing can take that away from you."

"But I'll never get to a point in my life when I feel like everyone else does, will I?"

"Tasha, you say that as if you're the only person on this ship who has any flaws. Everyone has insecurities to overcome. Everyone has goals that seem out of reach. You're not alone in your struggle."

Tasha nodded. Inwardly, she felt terribly alone. Alone with her secrets.

"I'd like for us to meet more frequently for a while, until your symptoms abate. How's next week at this time?" Deanna asked.

"It's fine. Probably a good idea. I'd like to nip this in the bud – I'd feel bad if it affected my work."

"We won't let it get to that point," Deanna assured her.

They both stood. "Will I see you at dinner?" Tasha asked.

"No – too much work to do."

"A few extra patients today?"

Deanna wagged her finger. "You know I can't tell you that."

"Tell Ensign Mehta I said hello. And Geordi?" Tasha smiled, one dimple dotting her cheek.

"Out." Deanna gave her a mock push to the door. "And, Tasha – sweet dreams."

* * *

><p>The longing for Ishara was a dull ache in the center of her chest. Tasha missed her so much that it was unbearable. The only thing that numbed the pain was the high. And now that she was coming down, the pain smacked her full force, like the worst gnawing hunger. She needed a fix, and she needed it now.<p>

It was the middle of the night, pitch black outside, with the smoke from the day's mortar fire still blotching out the stars. There were no lights on in the medical clinic. The lock on the door had been broken so many times that it gave way with one solid kick. Tasha slid in and silently shut the door behind her.

She felt her way through the waiting area, past the curtained-off treatment carrels, to the back room where they kept the supplies. She found what seemed to be a large storage cabinet, locked up with keypad access. She bet someone kept the code written down somewhere. She risked turning on a light – she was all the way in the rear of the building, with only one small window to give her away.

Her instincts were good: she only had to turn three drawers over before she found a scrap of paper with a series of crossed-out numbers in rows. She punched in the last set. The closet doors slid open with a soft whirr. Jackpot. She rifled through the rows of vials and boxes, looking for the ones she wanted.

"Decided to cut out the middle man?"

Tasha jumped and spun around. A skinny, brown-skinned man with a broken nose and lank black hair in a ponytail was leaning against the doorway.

Tasha relaxed. "Your prices are too high, Fonso. Sick of paying 'em."

"But I always get you what you want, sweetheart." He straightened up and sauntered into the supply room.

Tasha turned back to the cabinet and started searching the shelves again. "There's more than one way to get what you want."

"How'd you get past the guard, baby? You hide the body?"

"No one was minding the store." She found what she wanted, bottom shelf: ten vials of it. She started shoving the bottles into her jacket. "Too bad."

"I got my guys on the front door now, so why don't you hand over the goods?"

Tasha straightened, her back still to the dealer. There was a row of surgical tools at eye level: hyposprays, autosuturers, laser scalpels… "Why don't you get bent?"

"Can't have you horning in on my business, girly. Hand it over, you get out alive. I'll even give you a discount."

"What, you just gonna use the tip? Won't feel no different, pinprick." She shut the closet doors and turned around with her hands behind her back.

The dealer approached her slowly. His face was pockmarked, and his lips were bisected by a long scar. His eyes were as flat black as a snake's. "You won't talk so big when my guys are holding you down. Now, hand over what you got, baby, or I might get angry."

Tasha backed up to the closet doors as Fonso walked towards her, slow and menacing. She let the fear show in her eyes, let him see her lips tremble. As soon as he reached arm's length, she whipped out the scalpel and powered it on in one smooth motion. In another second, Fonso was facedown on the floor.

Tasha turned him over with the toe of her boot. His eyes were open, and the slash went clean from ear to ear. He wasn't yet bleeding. She stepped over his body and dragged a chair below the small window. She stood up on the chair, unlocked the window sash, and pushed it wide open. It would be a tight fit, but she could make it.

A sound behind her caught her ear. She turned to see gelatinous orange goo oozing out of the gaping wound on Fonso's neck. It pooled on the floor, growing more massive by the second. Deep inside the mass, Fonso's pockmarked face appeared and began to rise to the surface. It emerged from the blob and opened its scarred lips to speak.

"You didn't have to kill me," it said, the face in the blob as ugly as that of the corpse on the floor. "I was only playing. Why'd you have to kill me, Tasha? Why, Tasha? Tasha?"

"Tasha. _Tasha._" Data's voice finally reached her. She opened her eyes. "I am sorry to awaken you, but you were weeping in your sleep."

Tasha lay still for a second longer, trying to place herself. She was in her bed, on the Enterprise. Data was bent over her, wearing a pair of navy blue pajamas monogrammed with a D on the chest pocket. His forehead was creased with a look of worry.

Tasha wiped the tears from her cheeks. She focused on Data's golden eyes. "I was having the worst dream…"

"You seemed quite distressed. Has your emotional state improved, now that you are awake?"

"I don't know…" She could still see the last frightening scene of her dream. "Would you hold me?"

"Yes, of course." He lay down and folded her in his arms.

Her eyes were open, and she stared at the opalescent shimmer of his pale neck. "Data, do you think I'm a good person?" Tasha whispered.

Her head was on his chest, and she felt his voice as well as heard it. "I do not understand your question. Human beings are neither good nor bad. Those qualifiers are generally used to describe –"

"Just tell me. Do you think doing bad things out of necessity makes me a bad person?"

"I am not aware of any actions you have done that would sully my opinion of you, Tasha."

"Well, what's your opinion of me?"

Data was still puzzled by the question, but attempted to answer it nonetheless. "I do not believe it fair to judge a living being in the context you suggest."

Tasha made an exasperated sound and turned her back to him, taking the blanket with her. "Fine. Never mind."

Data directed a mollifying look at the back of her head. "However, you should know that I hold you in the highest esteem, and that you occupy a special, a unique place in my life."

She hunched her shoulders in response. He moved closer to her and tucked his legs against the back of hers in a manner that he knew she found pleasing. "I would remind you that your actions on Vega Mar VI resulted in the rescue of Ensign Mehta, Lt. La Forge, and myself. One cannot deny that the outcome of the mission was positive, in large part due to your bravery."

He felt her stiff posture relax somewhat. "You were brave, too. You always are."

"As are you." He put an arm around her waist and waited to see if she would shrug him off. When she did not, he pulled her closer. "One of your many good personality traits."

Her hand crept over his. "You think I have a good personality?"

"I find your personality to be endlessly diverting," Data answered.

"Hmmm. Vague. But better than nothing." She turned back around and lay nose to nose with him. "I think you're a good person."

"Thank you, but as I pointed out –"

She put a finger to his lips. "I'm too tired to argue."

He looked at her with a mixture of speculation, innocence, and acuity that was familiar to her. "Do you wish to resume sleeping?"

"I just want you to hold me."

Data obliged, still watching her and processing the information she gave off: the rate of her respiration, her pulse, her temperature. She had pushed her hands under his pajama top, and was running them restlessly over his skin.

"Would it help you to describe the dream aloud?" Data asked.

Her hands froze. "Definitely not."

He began stroking her back, another action he knew she found soothing. "What is it like, to dream?"

"You can't always tell you're dreaming. Sometimes, it feels so real, you don't notice how certain things are out of place, or how you relive something that really happened a different way, so that the outcome changes." She had recommenced feeling the perfectly smooth skin of his back.

"But what is it like?" he asked.

"I don't know. It feels like real life, but at the same time, it doesn't." Her hands were wandering lower.

"I still do not understand."

"It's hard to describe." She was rummaging his pajama bottoms now.

He fixed his gaze on her blue eyes. "Are you certain that your only desire is for me to hold you?"

She pressed him to her with both hands. "What do you think?"

"I think that there is a ninety percent probability that you are interested in more, and a ninety-five percent probability that it would elevate your mood to act on those interests."

"Oh, Data." She kissed him and rubbed her nose against his. "I can always count on you to bring a rational perspective to any situation."


	9. Chapter 9

The curling tool made a sizzling sound as it closed on another lock of Tasha's still-wet hair. "Your plan worked," she said.

"My plan?" Data was dressed in uniform and watching from the doorway as she finished getting ready.

"Your plan to tire me out, so I wouldn't have any more dreams. It worked. I slept like a rock," she finished.

"Was I so obvious?"

She fluffed out her hair with her fingers. "You weren't subtle."

He considered. "Vigorous physical exercise is proven to aid restful sleep in humans. I thought I was being helpful."

She turned off the curler and stepped out of the bathroom. "You were. I just won't be able to sit down." She gave him a peck on the cheek as she passed.

"I have injured you?"

"Just kidding. Mostly." She gathered up their discarded pajamas and crossed into the living room.

Data followed her. "I must be more gentle next time."

"Don't worry. As I said, your plan worked." Tasha dropped their clothes into the cleaning processor and went to the replicator. "Coffee. Black. Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you."

"But it can't work in the long run. I may need something to help me stay asleep."

"A soporific?" Data asked.

"Something. I'll ask Dr. Crusher." She put down her coffee and put her arms around his neck. "What shift do you work today?"

"I have the day off. But I plan to attend a meeting of the science department heads in the afternoon."

"I have relief duty today. Maybe we could meet up later for a walk in the arboretum."

"That would be acceptable." He leaned forward and kissed her goodbye. "Are you certain you are uninjured?"

She gave him a half-smile. "Soreness is such sweet sorrow."

Data scanned with his eyes. "I believe that is a misquote."

* * *

><p>"Well, we could try somnollen. It lengthens the delta-wave cycle of sleep. It's an immunity booster, but I think it might help in your case. You might have a metallic taste in your mouth in the morning, but there are no other side effects." Beverly and Tasha were in the doctor's office in sickbay.<p>

"That won't bother me," Tasha said, with a perfectly straight face.

"I don't recommend it for long-term use. You need all four cycles of sleep for your brain health. I can administer it tonight in a hypo, or I can synthesize a pill. Which would you prefer?" asked Beverly.

"I'll take a pill."

The doctor crossed over to the medical replicator. "I wish I could get Ensign Mehta to try it. He's convinced that it'll do more harm than good."

"I can't imagine what he's going through. We were only at the station for a few hours, and I can't stop thinking about it. He was trapped there for months."

Beverly handed her the materialized packet. "One a night for three nights maximum. Take it at least eight hours before you plan to wake up."

"Thanks, Doc. I'm looking forward to a good night's rest."

Tasha left sickbay. In the corridor, she touched the comm. panel. "Computer: location of Ensign Mehta."

"Ensign Mehta is in holodeck three."

She headed to the turbolift.

* * *

><p>The program running on holodeck three was a re-creation of the lavender falls on Folnar III. It was a popular relaxation program, one that Tasha had never used. The doors opened on an exotic landscape: a forest of red spiral-trunk trees rose around the majestic curtain of water. The air was cool with the purple spray, and the crashing sound of the water was a soothing white noise.<p>

Sanjay sat on a rock at the edge of the churning pool formed by the waterfall. He saw Tasha and beckoned her to join him. She navigated a row of slippery boulders, arms out for balance, and sat down beside him.

"Nice spot," she said.

"My girlfriend and I came here on our last leave," Sanjay replied. "Y'know, not here, but the real thing." He looked around. "This is a pretty good facsimile."

"I hope I'm not intruding…"

"Not at all. Glad for the company."

Tasha nodded. She looked him over for a moment. Sanjay had dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was drawn with fatigue.

He didn't miss her scrutiny. "I look like hell, don't I?" Tasha looked away. "I saw the same look from Marlene when I messaged her. I've lost a lot of weight, too. She was worried. I guess she was happy to see me alive, but I could tell she was still sad."

"Just give it time," Tasha said.

A pair of butterflies flew up from the tangled lily pads in the shallow water and fluttered in an aerial dance. "That's what Counselor Troi said, too. Hard to imagine I'll ever stop feeling this way," Sanjay replied.

"What way?"

"Violated. Used." The butterflies rose higher and flew out of sight. "Victimized. They tried to make me hurt the people I swore to serve. And I didn't have any hope of escape. It's hard to convey that feeling, Lt. Yar. I thought I'd never escape."

The sun shone through the water as through a prism. Tasha kept her face turned away and her eyes on the bars of colors in the air. "I know exactly how you feel."

Sanjay looked at her steadily, waiting for her to go on. She finally met his eyes. "I grew up on Turkana IV. I know what it's like to be trapped in a nightmare, except the nightmare is real, and you can't wake up."

He held her gaze, and she felt something pass between them. "I feel like I'm in a dream now, and any minute, I'll wake up, and the nightmare will return," Sanjay said quietly.

"I know that feeling, too," Tasha admitted.

They sat on in silence, the waterfall crashing ahead of them, a rainbow glimmering in the sunlit mist.

* * *

><p>Tasha came on bridge duty at noon. Worf was at the helm, and Ensign Jae sat at ops.<p>

"Lt. Yar, open a channel to the Ajax," the captain ordered.

"Hailing frequencies open, sir."

"Capt. Garling, this is Capt. Picard."

The image of the white-haired captain filled the viewscreen. "Capt. Picard. We're sixteen hours away from the rendezvous. How's my engineer?"

"He's in the care of our chief medical officer and ship's counselor. They've sent reports to your medical staff."

"Yes," Capt. Garling replied, his expression grave. "I've read them."

"I've a question for you, Garling. We've just received orders that propulsion experiments will next be conducted on the Enterprise."

Capt. Garling looked as if he smelled something bad. "Gird up your loins for Kosinski, Picard. I don't know why the devil the admirals are giving him carte blanche to play with our ships, but I'm glad he's off mine."

"Noted. Forewarned is forearmed," Picard said.

"You bet your sweet bippy. Garling out."

Worf turned to the captain. "Sweet bippy, sir?"

* * *

><p>At 1600 hours, Data was waiting for Tasha in the arboretum. Several people were strolling amongst a profusion of pampas grass, goldenrod, and purple coneflowers. Three children were sailing a remote-controlled boat on a rock-lined pond.<p>

"Lieutenant," Data greeted her formally.

"Commander." Her smile had a hint of mockery and a good deal of sweetness in it.

"Shall we?" Data offered his arm.

"I hope you don't mind – I invited Ensign Mehta to join us."

Data dropped his gesture. "Of course not. Is he in need of companionship?"

"Yes, I think he could use a friend. He's suffering, Data. I want to help him," Tasha said.

"I as well."

Sanjay entered the arboretum at that moment. "Lt. Yar, Cdr. Data."

"A pleasure to see you, Ensign. Have you visited the arboretum before?" Data asked.

"This is my first time, sir. This ship is incredible. There's still so much more to see," Sanjay answered.

The three of them set off down the grassy path. "Maybe you'll be posted here someday. We have crew rotation in a couple of months," Tasha said.

Sanjay put his arms behind his back. "I'm thinking of leaving Starfleet."

Data and Tasha exchanged a look. "Because of your imprisonment on Vega Mar VI?" Data asked.

"Yes, sir. I was just starting to get assigned to away missions when the Vareshk captured me. The captain had seen that I was good under pressure, and I think he had his eye on me to help me advance. But now, if I were to be assigned to an away team…"

"You shouldn't be too hasty, Mehta. I'm sure your captain will give you time to recover," Tasha said.

"Meanwhile, I'm a dead weight on the crew. No, I think this might be it for me."

"What about Marlene?" she asked.

Sanjay sighed. "I don't know. I honestly don't know if I can be in a relationship right now. I love her, but I don't want to put her through any more pain."

"Hey, that doesn't seem fair." Tasha touched his arm. The two of them were lagging behind Data by several steps. "She thought you were _dead_. Can you really see yourself leaving her again?"

"This might sound selfish, but it's hard to think about her needs right now." He stopped. "Lt. Yar, when I last saw her, the worst thing that had ever happened to me was getting dressed down by the chief engineer. The dangers of deep space were all just a theory to me, you know, bad things that happened to other people." His brown eyes went wild. "They _tortured _me, Lieutenant. They created duplicate mes and killed them in front of me. They experimented on me. To them, I wasn't a human. I was just a tool. The person I was is _gone_ – I feel like I'm a broken –" He put his face in his hands.

Tasha put her arms around him and looked up and down the path. Data was nowhere to be seen. She led Sanjay to a bench and sat down beside him, her arm around his shoulder. "Hey. Hey, look at me." Sanjay lifted his head. "I know how you feel. When I was rescued by Starfleet, I was barely human. I was a savage. An animal. I had been hurt, victimized, in ways I still can't talk about." She put her hands on his shoulders and looked in his eyes. "But I'm here. Somehow, I overcame years of hardship, and look at me – I'm Chief of Security on the Federation flagship. Trust me, if I can do that, anyone can."

Sanjay wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I didn't mean to unload on you. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I want to help you, if I can. I can't know what you're going through, but I feel for you." She hugged him again, rocking him back and forth. Over his shoulder, she searched the path once more. She finally saw Data; he seemed to be trying to blend in with the tall grasses. She gave him a questioning look. He shook his head and pointed to the exit. Tasha gave him a look of disapproval, but he walked away nonetheless. Her shoulders fell.

She watched him go and let out a frustrated sigh.

* * *

><p>Hours passed before Tasha felt it safe to break away. She went to Data's quarters and pressed the announcement button.<p>

"Enter."

He was sitting on his narrow grey couch with the captain's gift open on his lap. Tasha sat down beside him. They didn't speak for a moment. Tasha looked down at the pages to which the book was opened. She could understand the individual words, but couldn't make heads or tails of a single sentence. She looked up at Data. "Why did you run away?"

"I did not run," he corrected.

"You know what I mean. Why didn't you stay with us in the arboretum?"

"I was superfluous. The aid that Ensign Mehta required was of an emotional nature. I am incapable of providing assistance in that capacity."

Tasha searched his expression, as enigmatic as always. "You're not jealous that I –" At his disparaging look, she broke off. "It's hard to put into non-emotional terms, Data."

"If you are inquiring about my perception of the nature of your relationship with Ensign Mehta, the answer is, no, I do not perceive your interest to be anything but platonic. If you are inquiring if I am aware that you are capable of providing the emotional assistance he requires, whereas I am not, the answer is yes. I am aware of your superiority in this matter. Such a perception would give cause for jealousy in a human." Data paused. "However, I am not human."

Tasha took this in. "I didn't mean to exclude you, Data. Not many people can say they empathize with Sanjay. I wanted to show him that he's not alone."

"I can neither sympathize nor empathize with him," Data said. "What you are able to accomplish with a simple gesture, I cannot accomplish, even after years of effort and study."

"You're being too hard on yourself. No one expects you to be anything but who you are."

"The question is: who am I? Am I more than a conglomeration of programs and memory cells? Though I try to be, it is a question I cannot answer."

Tasha sighed. "I'm no philosopher. All I know is, when I look at you, I see someone I care for. You must be something more, otherwise, why would I feel that way?" She gave him an encouraging smile and bumped his shoulder with hers.

Data took her hand. "You have taught me much about the value of physical gestures. There are times when words are inadequate."

"You've taught me things, too, you know." She pointed to the open page. "Maybe you could teach me about this – I can't even understand the first line."

"'To be, or not to be,' perhaps the most famous speech in all of Earth literature."

"Do you know what it means?'

Data cocked his head. "I have several thousand critical analyses to draw upon."

Tasha snuggled up to him and put her arm through his. "I've got time."

* * *

><p>The four of them swung in the hammock: Tasha, Ishara, Miss Annie, and her baby Alma. They were all jumbled together, feeling warm and snug, and Miss Annie was reading a story from a padd. She was young and pretty with black hair and blue eyes. Alma had blue eyes, too, and a tuft of black hair stuck straight up with a pink bow.<p>

"'Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.' 'Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in!'"

"Why does the wolf want to blow their house down?" Tasha interrupted. She pulled Ishara's elbow away from its resting place on her stomach. "Ow. Careful, Shara."

"He wants to eat the little pig, sweetie."

"Eeeew." Tasha tickled her sister's belly. She laughed, the coughing, high-pitched giggle of a two-year old.

A cloud of dust appeared on the horizon. Miss Annie shifted and peered over the edge of the hammock. She stiffened. "Go inside, Tasha. Take Ishara with you." Annie held the toddler while Tasha extricated herself from the hammock. She put her arms out to help her sister down. Annie got out last, cradling her baby.

"What is it?" Tasha asked.

"Someone's coming. Looks like a group of people," Annie answered. Inside the pre-fab house, she opened a closet door aerated by shutter slats. "I want you two to hide, just in case they come in." She took off the top of a tall wicker basket and pulled out the clean linens inside. She lifted Tasha into the basket, and waited as the little girl folded her legs up to sit on the bottom. Annie lifted Ishara in and settled her in her big sister's lap.

"Nap?" Ishara asked.

"Mm-hmm, Shar-shar. Time to take a nap." Tasha hugged her close.

Annie piled a few sheets on top of them. "Don't make a sound, no matter what you hear. And don't let her suffocate."

"Yes, Miss Annie. What about you?" Tasha asked.

"Shh. Don't worry about us." Annie put the lid on the basket and shut the closet door.

Tasha heard Annie go into the bedroom and lock the door. Ishara's weight on her grew heavier as the minutes passed, and the soft, even breathing told Tasha that her sister was asleep.

She picked up on the sound while it was still far away. Heavy boots, a lot of them. Her breath came in shallow sips, and the hairs on her arms and neck stood up. The footsteps were coming closer.

There was a loud pounding on the front door. Tasha jumped, but settled back down immediately, fearful of waking Ishara. She heard the sound of phaser fire, and a clang as the deadbolt hit the concrete porch.

"Anybody home?" The voice was male and rough. Tasha held her breath. More heavy footsteps filled the front entrance. "Search the house," the rough voice ordered.

Tasha heard the click of the bedroom door lock, and Miss Annie's frightened voice. "What do you want?"

"'Zat her?"

"You been ratting out the Alliance to the government. Where'd you get the information?" A different male voice. Younger.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Annie replied. Alma was starting to fuss.

"Take her in," the rough voice said.

"No! Stop! I told you, I don't know anything. I have a baby, for god's sake!"

"Shut your hole. You can walk, or we can carry you, wormbait."

"Just leave us alone!"

Tasha heard the sound of a scuffle, and then phaser fire, a loud crash, and Alma's bloodcurdling scream. More phaser fire.

"Why'd you stun the baby?" The younger voice.

"Shut up. Just pick it up. Grab the broad, dirtbags. Let's go."

The heavy boots started moving away, with the addition of a dragging sound. One set of footfalls came closer, into the hall. Tasha bit down on her lip. The footsteps passed, began to ring out on the tiles in the kitchen. They returned.

"She's got a replicator. Full power cells. We're coming back with the ATV."

"Fine. Let's go."

Tasha sat silently in the basket, long after the last sounds had disappeared, long after her breathing had evened out, so long, that when she finally tried to stand, her legs were stiff and cramped. She pushed off the sheets and lid, and rocked the basket to tip it over. It fell against the closet door and pushed it open, slowly coming down to the floor. Tasha crawled out and dragged Ishara after her.

The smaller girl rubbed her eyes. "Snack?"

"Yes, I'll get you a snack." They went into the kitchen. Tasha couldn't feel her feet very well. "Cheese sandwich. Small." It materialized in the replicator with a shimmer. Tasha pulled it out. "Dry rations. 14 days." She handed the sandwich to her sister and walked away. She searched the room for a knapsack. They would need shoes, soap, what else? It was hard to think. Tasha went back to the replicator and put the shrink-wrapped rations in the sack.

The padd. Miss Annie read about a lot of things on it, and used it to teach them their letters and numbers. Tasha found it and put it in the sack. Water. Food was one thing, but they would die without water. She went back to the replicator.

"Water in a carrying bag. Three liters."

It would be heavy, but she would have to manage. If they didn't find someone else to stay with, they probably wouldn't make it. But it might take them days. And no one would ever be as nice as Miss Annie.

Her hearing was very good, and the settlement on the outskirts of the colony was very quiet. She could hear the sound of a motor vehicle, far away. Tasha shouldered the bag of water and crossed the straps of the knapsack on her narrow chest. "C'mon, Shara." She took the empty plate and put it in the dematerialization slot. It disappeared.

"Carry," Ishara whined, holding up her arms.

"I can't carry you, brat. You have to walk."

"Carry!" Ishara wailed, ending in a cry. She squeezed her eyes shut and started sniveling. She was seconds from a full tantrum.

Tasha did something she'd never done before. She reared back and smacked her baby sister across the face. Ishara's eyes popped open, and she stared at Tasha, open-mouthed and frightened.

"You have to walk, or I'm gonna leave you here, and the big, bad wolf is gonna blow the house down and eat you! Start walking!"

Ishara stared at her sister with panic stark on her face. A red welt was rising on her cheek.

"NOW!" Tasha yelled.

The toddler walked jerkily to the back door. Outside, the sound of the motor grew louder, headed straight for the house. Tasha grabbed Ishara's hand and broke into a run, the bags bouncing painfully against her. The bad men would be here any second. They had to get away.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Shar-shar," Tasha said. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry!" Tasha was awake and sitting up in bed. "I'm sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry!" She was wracked by uncontrollable sobs. That had been no dream. It was a memory, an old one, buried deep and long forgotten. The pain of it was turning her insides out. She was crying so hard that she could barely breathe.

"Lt. Yar to sickbay. Someone come to my quarters. I think I need help."


	10. Chapter 10

"Don't apologize, Dr. Selar. You were right to wake me." Beverly was probing Tasha, who sat on a biobed in sickbay, dressed in a standard-issue set of white unisex pajamas and black slippers.

The Vulcan doctor examined the tricorder in Beverly's hand. "I found these anomalous readings a cause for concern, Dr. Crusher."

"I agree. Theta waves should be nearly undetectable. Hers are off the scale."

"What does that mean?" asked Tasha.

"I don't know yet. You say it wasn't a nightmare?" Beverly asked.

"No. This was a real memory. It played out exactly as it happened, so vividly, it felt like I was there. Something that happened when I was about seven. I hadn't thought of it in years – how many things can you remember from when you were that age?"

"Not many," Beverly agreed. "Did you take the somnollen before you went to bed?"

"I did – one pill, just like you said," Tasha answered. "Could that have triggered it?"

"Not on its own." Beverly continued to scan her. "Your dopamine levels are off."

"Is that bad?"

"It's puzzling. I'd like to set up an EEG. Nurse –" Beverly walked away.

"How are you feeling?" Selar asked. Her voice was clinical. Tasha generally found the Vulcan doctor's bedside manner to be somewhat lacking.

"Pretty shook up. It's been years since I've had a panic attack."

"Do you require the assistance of Counselor Troi?"

Before Tasha could answer, Beverly put in, "That's a good idea. She might be able to give us some additional insight. Dr. Crusher to Counselor Troi."

There was a long pause before the reply came over the comm. "Troi here."

"Sorry to wake you, Deanna, but I need you in sickbay."

The EEG fit over Tasha's scalp like a transparent, flexible cap with sensor tendrils burrowed under her hair. Beverly and Selar tracked the results on a wall monitor. "We'll need to analyze the readings over a longer period of time than normal. Tasha, we may have to keep you for a few hours," Beverly said.

Deanna entered sickbay, her dark curls loose around her shoulders and no makeup on her face. She looked younger without her usual heavy cosmetics; Tasha was reminded that Deanna was only a year or two older than herself.

"You called for me, Doctor?" Beverly briefed her on Tasha's episode. "Are you sure it wasn't a dream, Tasha?" Deanna asked.

"I'm sure. It felt as if someone had unlocked that memory, and I was reliving it."

"Someone? I sense no outside sentient influence here. Could it be some_thing_?"

"I don't know, Troi. I just know that it was nothing I'd been thinking about before I went to sleep," Tasha answered. "You know, Ensign Mehta said he'd been troubled by nightmares, too, and Geordi and Cdr. Riker. Maybe it's not just me. Maybe we brought back some contaminant from the outpost."

Deanna and Beverly exchanged looks. "It's a possibility worth exploring," Beverly said. "I'll call them in."

The young engineer arrived in short order, dressed in pajamas and red-eyed with fatigue. "Doctor. Counselor." He nodded to Tasha. "What's wrong?"

"Sanjay, are you still having nightmares?" Deanna asked.

"Yes, Counselor."

"What kind of images are you seeing?"

He looked consternated. "Sometimes, I'm in engineering, aboard the Ajax. I'm doing my work, when…one of those…things…comes after me."

"The clones, or the coalescent cells?" Deanna asked.

"One or the other. Or both. Sometimes, I'm back at the outpost, and they're asking me to tell them what I know."

"Do you tell them? In your dream?"

Sanjay shook his head.

"Tasha, what are the images that you've been seeing?" Deanna asked.

"Things that happened on the colony, all jumbled together with images from the outpost, places and people mixed up together, until tonight," Tasha replied.

"The memory you relived tonight – was there something special about it?"

Tasha considered. "Only that I never wanted to think about it ever again."

"Something that you put away," Deanna conjectured. Tasha nodded. "A secret," the counselor went on.

Tasha looked uncomfortable, but agreed. "I've never talked about it with anyone."

"Beverly, I don't think that's a coincidence," Deanna said. "Their nightmares center on memories they don't want to share or relive. Information they'd rather keep secret."

"I see where you're going, Troi. Do you think the Vareshk could have developed a chemical technology sophisticated enough to target secret information?" Beverly asked.

"We might be seeing the results in front of us," Deanna replied.

"But how?" Tasha asked. "The Vareshk never touched me."

Will and Geordi arrived in sickbay, both looking ready to work. Beverly and Selar scanned them with tricorder probes.

"Not as pronounced, but there is some deviation from expected norms," Selar said.

"What's going on?" asked Will.

"We've detected evidence of a foreign contaminant at work in Lt. Yar and Ensign Mehta," Beverly answered. "Hypothetically, at this point, but I see indications that it might be present in you and La Forge."

"Have you been having nightmares, Will?" Deanna asked.

He looked concerned. "Sure. Nothing unusual, after a mission like that."

"Do you remember any images or events?"

"Let me think…I'm flying the shuttle, and the crew isn't who they appear to be. They turn into those half-dead clones, like the one we found of Geordi."

"Can you see the shuttle controls in your dreams? The weapons systems, coded readouts, anything of that sort?" Deanna asked.

Will thought it over. "Could be. It felt real in the dream."

"That would support our theory," said Beverly.

"What theory?" asked Geordi.

"Should we inform the captain?" Selar asked. "If there's a contaminant onboard…"

"You're right." Beverly sighed. "Looks like none of us will get much sleep tonight."

* * *

><p>Will and Geordi had taken the time to change into uniform before reporting to sickbay. Sanjay had not, and their similarly disheveled state made Tasha feel less awkward when the captain arrived.<p>

"Report," he ordered Beverly.

"We've run tests on the brain activity and neurotransmitter levels in all four of them, Captain. There are elevated theta waves in Riker and La Forge, and some imbalances in dopamine transmission, but not significant. However, in Ensign Mehta –" Beverly brought up his results on the monitor. "There is evidence of extensive tampering with the hippocampi and neurotransmitter uptake."

"In plain language, Doctor."

"This area of the brain controls memory, especially memory of fact – concrete information that can be verbalized. If the Vareshk scientists were trying to obtain information from Ensign Mehta, they might have used more than one method to go about it."

"They interrogated me, but I didn't reveal anything to them, sir," Sanjay said.

"Nothing that you were conscious of," Beverly went on. "But if you look at his brain waves, these patterns are not characteristic for an alert human. I would theorize that the Vareshk were experimenting with Ensign Mehta in his sleep. I'll have to study him in his sleep to get to the bottom of this. What concerns me more is the emergence of these abnormal patterns in Lt. Yar."

"But you said we might've brought something back from the planet, when Tasha's the only one who wasn't hurt," Geordi said.

"Her symptoms are more severe than yours or Cdr. Riker's. I don't have an explanation for that," Beverly said.

"Do you think whatever it is might be contagious?" asked Picard.

"I'm not sure," Beverly answered. "Tasha, you're certain you didn't touch any foreign substance on the planet?"

"She couldn't have touched the coalescent cells, Doctor – they render you unconscious immediately," Sanjay said.

"He's right, Doctor. Cdr. Riker was unresponsive when Data and I found him," Tasha added.

"In all of our conjecture, we've yet to ask the one crewmember who might have an unadulterated view of what happened on the outpost," said Picard.

Beverly nodded. "Dr. Crusher to Lt. Cdr. Data. Please report to sickbay."

* * *

><p>"Worf is gonna think we left him out on purpose," Geordi said when Data arrived.<p>

"Lt. Worf is working gamma shift on the bridge. Shall I call him?" Data asked.

"It was a joke, Data."

"Ah."

"Commander, was there anything you observed on Vega Mar VI that would point to an attempt to compromise Lt. Yar?" Beverly asked.

"Lt. Yar? What has happened?"

Beverly ran through her fifth briefing of the night.

"Are you quite all right?" Data asked Tasha.

"Fine. Just a little unnerved," Tasha replied.

"Ensign Mehta shows the most severe signs of abnormality, but Tasha's scans are not far off. Geordi and Will's symptoms are much less pronounced," Beverly said.

"Puzzling. What do you hypothesize, Doctor?"

"I don't have enough information for more than a gut feeling right now. I'd like to run more tests while they sleep."

"I'm too worked up to sleep now," Tasha said.

"I can induce it. Maybe the somnollen acted as a catalyst for whatever we're seeing," said Beverly.

Both Tasha and Sanjay looked nervous. "Doctor, is that really necessary? I don't cotton to the idea of having another panic attack," said Tasha.

"I'm not going to sit back and hope everything goes back to normal, Tasha. If there's an alien substance at work on your mind, I'm going to find it and get rid of it," Beverly said.

"I'll stay right here," Deanna added. "We won't let anything happen to you."

"With your permission, Captain, I would like to stay as well," Data said. "I uploaded to the ship's computer what little information the tricorder could read from the coalescent cells, and the readings from the clone of Lt. La Forge. We may yet discover a connection."

Picard took in Data's serious expression. "Permission granted."

"I'd like Will and Geordi to remain in sickbay until we've determined the nature of the contaminant and its method of transference," Beverly said.

Jean-Luc showed a hint of irritation. "That's the entirety of my senior staff, Doctor."

"Until we find out what's causing these anomalous readings, three of them are my patients, Captain," Beverly rejoined.

They locked eyes for a moment.

"Very well, Doctor. I expect regular reports," said Picard.

"You'll get them."

"I'm supposed to rendezvous with the Ajax at 0400," Sanjay said sheepishly.

The captain nodded. "Picard to bridge."

"Worf here."

"Inform the Ajax that there will be a delay in Ensign Mehta's return. We've encountered a…complication."

"Aye, sir."

"Nurse, set up an EEG at stations eight and nine," Beverly ordered. "It's a good thing you two kept your PJs on," she said aside to Tasha and Sanjay.

There was a brief flurry of activity as the medical staff set up the stations for sleep study and took Will and Geordi away for more tests. Tasha lay down on a biobed, and the nurse fitted her with a network of sensors. He moved on to work on Sanjay.

Data stood beside Tasha, and after a glance around them, took her hand and pressed it in his. "I will be right here."

Tasha squeezed back hard and dropped his hand, just as the nurse returned.

"Are you ready?" he asked, holding a hypospray above her neck.

Tasha nodded. The last thing she saw before she drifted off was Data's face, creased with concern.

* * *

><p>"Detecting rapid eye movement, Doctor. She's entering a dream cycle," the nurse reported.<p>

"The brain waves still don't match up," Beverly said, half to herself. "They're more typical of delta wave sleep."

"Incidences of sleep-talking and sleep-walking occur more frequently during delta-wave sleep," Deanna reminded her.

"You're right. There could be a connection."

* * *

><p>School was going to start in just a few minutes. Tasha and Ishara ran over the last ridge, the squat building ahead at the bottom of the hill. Tasha loved school. Along with the orphanage, it was where she felt most comfortable and safe. Teacher said that an educated mind was the best defense against the gangs. They couldn't really hurt your body if they couldn't reach your soul. Most of the kids in the orphanage had been hurt in some way or another, so her advice was welcome.<p>

Tasha skidded to a stop and patted down her jacket. She started swearing. It was a bad habit, she knew, but sometimes the ugly words made her feel good. "Ishara, we have to go back."

"Why?" Ishara was just eight, and more defiant than ever.

"I forgot the padd. Doofus!" Tasha hit her forehead. "It must've dropped out of my jacket."

"But we'll be late. Teacher'll be mad," Ishara said with irritation.

"Doesn't matter. That padd is our lifeline. We have to find it." Tasha spun Ishara around and started retracing their steps.

"Let me go ahead, then. We don't both hafta be late," Ishara grumbled.

"Uh-uh. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

They ran over the rough terrain, hopping over broken foundation stones and skirting past crumbling remnants of buildings.

"I'm not a baby anymore. I can go by myself," Ishara insisted.

"It's not safe to go anywhere alone, brat. When are you gonna learn?" Tasha was scanning the ground, looking for a reflection of light.

"We wouldn't be alone if we joined a cadre. We'd be protected."

Tasha's grip on her sister's arm tightened like a vise. "They're not cadres. They're _gangs._ Don't dignify them. They're full of evil, messed-up, murderous bastards. I wish they'd all die."

Ishara's face was grim and old beyond her years. "You sound just like Teacher."

"There it is!" The padd was glinting in the sunlight under a dried-out bush. Tasha dusted it off and secured it in an inner pocket.

"Okay, let's go!" Ishara cried.

"Lead the way, Shara." Tasha felt a weight lift from her. The padd was almost worth her life. With it, she could get news from the UFP, track incoming starships, and read reports from the central colony government. It was their one tie to the outside world, and the key to her never-ending hope to escape.

They ran back the way they came, Ishara keeping pace with Tasha, despite her shorter stature. They had almost reached the last ridge when they both heard the familiar whine of an accelerator out of control, and the squeal of wheels on unpaved road.

"No," breathed Tasha, "Car bomb. Get down!" She threw her sister down to the ground and flattened herself on top of her, eyes screwed shut, fingers jammed into her ears.

The detonation rattled the earth and covered them with debris. A wave of heat passed over them, singeing the hairs in their nostrils. When the shaking finally stopped, Tasha worked up the courage to open her eyes and raise her head.

"NO!" She barely recognized the inhuman shriek that came out of her mouth as her own. "No! _No!"_

Where the school had stood moments before, an orange blaze was licking the sky with its flames. The shock was too great for Tasha to take in. 40 kids. Three teachers, one of them the formidable woman who had taken a pack of wild orphans and tried to tame them into human beings. She'd never told them her name, saying that it was too dangerous with the work she did at night. Everyone only called her Teacher. The enormity of it expanded in Tasha's mind.

"Tasha, come on! We have to go!" Ishara had crawled out from under her sister and was standing up and tugging on her clothes. "It's not safe here – we have to go!"

"No. No." Her shrieks had diminished to a steady stream of whispers. Everyone she knew, save Ishara, had been in that building. Everyone she loved.

"We have to go! Tasha, please!" Ishara was starting to cry. "Come on! COME ON!"

Tasha staggered to her feet. She turned her back on the conflagration at the bottom of the hill, completely numb inside, and cold despite the heat. "No. No."

"Doctor." Data tried again to get Beverly's attention. Tasha was whimpering, her head twisting on the wedge pillow.

Selar, Beverly, and Deanna were all occupied with Sanjay, who was convulsing on a biobed nearby. "He's seizing! Activate the restraining field!" Beverly ordered.

"Not while he's moving this much – we might injure him," Selar countered.

Tasha's cries were growing in intensity. "Doctor," Data said insistently.

"One moment! The anticonvulsant is taking hold. Has she talked in her sleep before?" Beverly asked.

"Yes," Deanna and Data answered simultaneously.

Beverly threw Data a look of suspicion.

"It's in Lt. Yar's file," Deanna said quickly. "She suffers infrequent sleep disturbances."

"I see." Beverly still looked skeptical.

Data kept his eyes trained on Tasha.

"Nurse, we need some help over here. Take his legs." Beverly motioned to the nurse as Deanna stepped out of the way.

Data leaned in close to Tasha's ear. "I am right here," he whispered. "You have nothing to fear. You are safe on the Enterprise. I will not let any harm come to you." Heedless of the others in the room, he took her hand and squeezed it.

* * *

><p>Tasha bent close to the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her lipgloss. She checked her makeup from all angles and stroked the spit curl in the middle of her forehead. She thought she looked glamorous. Hot, even. Well, she sure as hell felt hot.<p>

"Computer: lower temperature to fifteen degrees."

Her door chime sounded. She giggled. Now, who could that be? As if she didn't know…

"Come in." She giggled again.

"Lt. Yar?" Oh, he had a nice voice. Deep. Expressive. Deep voices were such a turn-on.

"Here, Data." She walked to the bedroom door, the slow, seductive walk she'd unleashed on the crew in the corridors. It'd been pretty effective out there, if she did say so herself.

The bedroom doors opened, and she posed in the darkened doorway. "You wanted me?"

And she got a reaction from him. She felt triumphant – the poised, formal, impeccable android second officer, and she saw him react to her appearance. It filled her with euphoria. It felt so good, so good, so good…and what she wanted was so bad…

Data gave a sidewise glance to the other occupants of sickbay and moved to block Tasha from their view. She was no longer distressed. She was smiling, a sensual smile he had seen before. He found his own expression of alarm to be appropriate.

"Doctor, your hypothesis is that the Vareshk were trying to target secret information?" he asked.

"Yes. I've got his other arm – activate the restraining field," Beverly said.

"An astute hypothesis," Data said.


	11. Chapter 11

"Dr. Crusher, look at this," said Dr. Selar. "There is unidentified particulate matter in the air around Ensign Mehta."

"What? Computer, activate quarantine field at station eight," Beverly ordered. A buzz, and the force field went up. "Why didn't we detect it before?"

"The saturation levels are very low. I've widened the range of the sensors to detect foreign matter at .001 micrometers per cubic part," Selar answered.

"Good work." Beverly checked the monitor. "Computer: preliminary analysis of foreign airborne matter at station eight."

"Preliminary analysis inconclusive. Particles do not match any known substance."

"Run compositional analysis on the molecular level," Beverly ordered. She approached station nine. Tasha was sleeping peacefully, with Data watching over her.

Beverly thought about it; Data hadn't left Tasha's side in the hour and a half that they'd been studying her. He'd assisted when asked, volunteered his thoughts as new information presented itself, but was always right by her, as if he were standing guard. Beverly put the thought out of her mind after a moment – she had more important matters to ponder. "I've modified the sensitivity of this tricorder," she said to Data. She scanned Tasha. "Selar, I'm detecting the same alien particles around Lt. Yar." She looked apologetically at Data. "I'm going to activate a quarantine field."

"Proceed, Doctor." He took a step away. A buzz and a brief flash, and Tasha was invisibly isolated from the room.

"Selar, check La Forge and Riker," Beverly ordered. With a look of curiosity, she turned the probe on herself. "Hmmm." She checked the readings on the tricorder. "Whatever it is, I haven't been infected," she pronounced. With another scrutinizing look, she probed Data. Her eyebrows jumped. "Data, the particles are present in your ventilation system."

Data was the picture of innocence. "My most recent self-diagnostic found no harmful materials present."

"It might have been classified as a tolerable irritant, like dust or discarded skin cells," Beverly replied. "In any case, you wouldn't suffer any symptoms –"

"As I do not sleep or dream. Yes, Doctor," Data finished.

"Dr. Crusher, I found less concentrated levels of the alien particles in Lt. La Forge and Cdr. Riker. They were nearly undetectable," Selar reported.

Beverly scanned her. "Hmm. You're clean," she said.

"I should hope so. I took a sonic shower at 1900 hours," Selar deadpanned.

Beverly gave her a pained look. "If I weren't running on three hours' sleep, I'd laugh."

"No need. But, Doctor, perhaps you should take a break. Counselor Troi left almost an hour ago."

Beverly briefly pressed her fingertips to her eyes. "I can manage. Nurse, bring Cdr. Riker and Lt. La Forge over here. I'd like to brainstorm some possible origins for these foreign particles."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Should we wake Lt. Yar?" Data asked.

Beverly checked the monitor. "No. She's in a deep sleep stage right now. If we woke her, she'd be disoriented. I'd like to track her through at least one more full cycle – another one and a half to two hours."

Will and Geordi joined them. "Any news?" Will asked.

"We've detected a foreign airborne substance, and the computer is running an analysis. It might take a few hours; in the meantime, I want to suss out where the particulate matter could've come from," Beverly replied.

Geordi spread his hands. "We were all inside the outpost station at some point. We could've breathed it in the air."

"The concentration is much higher in Tasha and Sanjay," Beverly pointed out. "It's so low in the three of you, I can't imagine you could pass the contaminant to anyone else." She scanned Geordi's mouth and nose. "It seems to hover around the mucous membranes, to be reabsorbed in the host."

Geordi and Will exchanged a look. "Sanjay was there for months. But Tasha… Tasha and Data were there for the same amount of time," said Will

"But the concentration is low in Data's ventilation system, lower than yours and Geordi's," Beverly said.

"Perhaps the particles require an organic medium in which to grow," Data offered.

"Then it would have grown in us, too," Geordi said.

"What's the missing link?" asked Beverly. "What did you touch or share that Tasha got the greater portion of?"

They turned to look at the silent subject of their questions, stirring now on the biobed. As they watched, the brainwave patterns on the monitor changed frequency and amplitude.

"She's entering a dreaming state again." Beverly sighed and looked at Data with compassion in her eyes. "I hope they're pleasant dreams."

* * *

><p>Tasha crouched lower in the shadowy doorway of an abandoned building. She watched as groups of people emerged from the building two doors down, walking out into the night with the confident swagger that typified a gang member. She was in the heart of their territory, dangerous, she knew, but necessary.<p>

A group of children came out, and Tasha saw her. She picked up a handful of gravel and threw it on the ground, the dirt and pebbles rattling on the broken pavement. Ishara's head whipped around, and she dropped out of step with the others. When the group had passed out of sight, she turned and searched the street.

Tasha hissed softly. Ishara darted into the dark doorway where her sister was hiding.

"What are you doing here? It's not safe for you," Ishara whispered.

"I had to see you." Tasha pulled the little girl further into the doorway with her. "Are you okay?"

"What do you want, Tasha?"

"There's a ship coming. A Starfleet ship on a fact-finding and rescue mission. It's what I've been hoping for – Shara, it's our way out. We can escape from this miserable place and start a new life."

It was too dark to see Ishara's expression, but Tasha could hear the flat, emotionless tone in her voice. "I just got promoted to runner."

"Are you listening to me? We can get away from here. Do you think life in a Federation colony is supposed to be like ours? We're not supposed to be hungry, or scared for our lives. Humans aren't supposed to have a reason to fight each other. We can leave it all behind – be with people who'll take care of us."

"The Coalition takes care of me," Ishara replied.

Tasha smacked her fist into her palm. "The _Coalition? _ That bullshit name doesn't cover up what they really are. Thieves. Rapists. Murderers…"

"Don't talk that way about my family!" Ishara cried.

They both looked around themselves in fear. Tasha continued in a quieter voice. "_I'm_ your family, Ishara. Your flesh and blood. I've stood by you your whole life. Ten years. I protected you; I fed you when you were just a little baby –"

"I'm not a baby anymore. And I don't believe in fairy tales."

"Damn it, Ishara, it's not a fairy tale! We don't have to live this way. Come with me." Tasha fumbled in the dark for her hand. "Have I ever led you wrong?"

Ishara seemed to relent. "When's the ship coming? Where's it going to be?"

"I can't tell you that. You know why."

Ishara shook off her hand. "You're weak, Tasha. There's a battle to be won here. I'm not just gonna run away."

"Do you hear yourself? A battle for what? King of the dung heap?" Tasha cut herself off. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying."

"I understand." Ishara's cupid's bow lips were set in a hard line, and her blue eyes were steely. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tasha's face fell. "Ishara, I _have _to go. And when I do, I'm never coming back. We're never going to see each other, ever again. Can you live with that?"

Ishara shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Then stay."

Tasha shook her head. "Come with me."

They looked at each other, two immovable objects in the darkness.

"I have to go. If they notice I'm gone…" Ishara began, backing away to the street.

"Wait." Tasha reached down and put her arms around her sister, crushing the thin little girl to her. "Take care of yourself," she murmured into her hair. "Don't forget me, Shar-shar."

Ishara stood still as a statue, her arms down by her sides. "I have to go."

Tasha released her. "Goodbye."

Ishara ran off into the night without looking back. Tasha sank down to the ground, holding her knees and rocking back and forth. She still had to make it back out of Coalition territory alive, and somehow figure out the Starfleet landing party's coordinates, but she took a few minutes to try to push away the sadness knotting her up inside like a fist closed around her heart.

She heard a meow and felt a bump against her leg. "Oh, it's you. You little darling, where've you been?"

The cat rubbed its head against her. Tasha scratched the orange ears and sat cross-legged in the dirt. She gathered the cat into her lap. It responded by kneading her thighs with its claws.

"Ouch. Keep that up, and I won't take you with me, either." The thought caused something to break apart inside her, and she buried her nose in the animal's fur, tears stinging her eyes despite her will to hold them back.

Tasha wiped the tears from her eyes, coming to and blinking, to find five concerned faces looking down at her.

She sat up on the biobed. "How long have you all been staring at me? Did you enjoy the show?"

The humans all took an instinctive step back at the hostile tone in her voice. Selar and Data stayed put. "Lt. Yar, we found an alien particulate matter in your respiratory system. It may be the contaminating agent we've been looking for," said Selar.

"I breathed it in?" Tasha asked.

"It must be something more than that; the levels are different in everyone from the away team," Beverly replied.

Tasha looked to Data. "Something more? Like what?"

"We have narrowed to a short list the actions that may have differentiated your exposure from the rest of the away team's," Data supplied.

Tasha began to get down from the biobed, but encountered the flash of the quarantine field. She looked over at Beverly.

"I'm sorry, Tasha. Until we determine the method of transference, we must take every precaution," Beverly said.

Tasha pushed back her bangs. "This mission has turned into a nightmare." She looked up at the others. "Pun intended."


	12. Chapter 12

The captain was in the midst of conversation with the miniature image on the monitor in his ready room. "Admiral Nakamura, my chief medical officer has presented a very strong argument for returning to Vega Mar VI. Four of my senior officers have been affected by this incident. Unless we can return to the site of contact, my CMO is at a loss as to how to cure them."

"I understand your concern, Capt. Picard, but Starfleet places a higher priority on the propulsion experiments. The reports we're getting from the Fearless show significant improvement to the efficiency of their warp drive," Nakamura replied.

"The efficiency of the warp drive cannot take precedence over the health and safety of my crew," Picard replied sternly.

Nakamura was unmoved. "We have already sent the USS Crazy Horse to Vega Mar III to reopen negotiation talks with the Vareshki governing body. A side trip to the outpost on Vega Mar VI would be acceptable – your CMO can coordinate efforts remotely with a science team at the site."

Picard hid his astonishment behind an urbane smile. "Reopen negotiations? With all due respect, Admiral, the Vareshk attacked my away team, kidnapped my helmsman, and incapacitated both my first and second officers. Are you certain they are interested in talking?"

"The Vareshk government has assured us that the incident at Vega Mar VI was the result of their species' natural suspicion. They have classified it as an accidental miscarriage of power."

Picard was still smiling. "And the engineer we rescued, whom they'd held captive for three months?"

"A cultural misunderstanding. They purport to have been unaware of humans' aversion to captivity," Nakamura replied.

"And to being experimented upon?" Picard dropped the cordiality. "Admiral, you can't tell me that you believe them."

"Of course not, Jean-Luc. But the strides they've made in non-invasive information retrieval are too important to ignore. Our defensive power is vastly superior to theirs. Now that your crew has uncovered their machinations, Starfleet is inclined to learn more about the technology. We still prefer to have the Vareshk as allies. The Crazy Horse has been thoroughly debriefed – I don't think they'll run into any problems."

"I see." Picard leaned back and folded his arms, his face stoic.

"And you can understand our reluctance to send in a ship whose senior officers might have a personal score to settle."

"Of course."

Nakamura straightened. "Request denied. Capt. Picard, you will proceed to the rendezvous with the Fearless as scheduled. Nakamura out."

The admiral's image was replaced with the UFP seal. Jean-Luc stared at the blue and white symbol for a few seconds, lost in thought. Then, "Chief Medical Officer, report to the captain's ready room."

Beverly soon arrived, looking pinched and bleary-eyed, though Jean-Luc noted in the back of his mind that she was attractive, nonetheless. "Have a seat, Doctor," he offered.

Beverly complied. "You look like you have bad news," she said warily.

He decided not to mince words. "Your request to return to Vega Mar VI has been denied. Starfleet has sent the Crazy Horse instead; you'll have to coordinate your efforts with them."

Her ire was immediately up. "Did they give a reason?"

"They were…reluctant to send a crew that might disrupt negotiations with the Vareshk government," he said apologetically.

Beverly was aghast. "Disrupt negotiations? Politics! They're tying my hands over politics?" Her anger burned away the fatigue. "Jean-Luc, I don't think they understand the severity of what we're seeing. I've had to heavily sedate Ensign Mehta to stop him from convulsing in his sleep, and your security chief was reduced to tears. I don't want to go back for revenge – I want to find a cure."

"Beverly, as you said, our hands are tied. We have our orders. Whatever information you need will have to be gathered by the Crazy Horse," Jean-Luc replied.

She tried to contain her fury. "The admirals are completely out of touch with reality. Do you know what damage to the hippocampus leads to? Retrograde amnesia. I'd like to hear their explanations when the senior officers of the flagship can no longer form new memories." Beverly rose. "May I be excused? I want to get the ETA from the Crazy Horse and make sure they've got adequate personnel on the science team."

"Yes, Doctor. Dismissed."

Beverly stormed out of the room. Jean-Luc let out a frustrated sigh and brought up the daily reports on his monitor.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, the senior officers were gathered around Tasha in sickbay.<p>

"Computer, has the Crazy Horse's science team confirmed receipt of my tricorder readings from Vega Mar VI?" Data asked.

"Confirmed. Upload complete."

"We need this search to be fast and specific. We're looking for the conducting agent, and a way to reverse the damage," Beverly said. "Of course, if the Vareshk would just tell us what they did, we could move on."

"They seemed to respond to the business end of a phaser," Tasha pointed out.

"I think that's why they won't let us go back," said Geordi. "They must've found our methods a little aggressive."

"Those mole people didn't even see aggressive. Somebody oughtta turn a floodlight on 'em," Tasha grumbled.

Beverly's laugh turned into a yawn that she hid behind her hand. She wiped involuntary tears from her eyes.

"Doctor, perhaps a brief rest period would be beneficial," Data suggested.

"Data, if you say that one more time, I can't answer for my actions. I'm not going anywhere until this mystery is solved."

"I guess we're all feeling a little aggressive," said Will.

Beverly's communicator chirped. "Bridge to CMO."

"Crusher here."

"Incoming message from the Crazy Horse, Doctor."

"I'll take it in my office." She walked away.

The door to sickbay opened to admit Wesley. He came over to the group of officers and greeted them all. The boy looked over the network of sensors covering the blond security chief. "Are you okay, Lt. Yar?" he asked.

"That's a relative term right now, Wesley," she replied.

"I read the mission reports." At the accusatory looks of three of the officers, he tried to recover. "I couldn't help it! My mom left them up on the monitor."

"You shouldn't pry into ship's business, young man," Riker admonished.

"But it was so incredible – it sounded like a horror vid," Wesley protested.

"That's pretty much how it felt, too," Geordi assented.

Beverly returned. "I know this will come as a shock, but the Vareshk scientists aren't cooperating."

"Mom, I wanted to talk to you –"

"Not now, Wesley. I'm very busy," Beverly replied wearily. "Whatever it is, it'll have to wait."

"Can I help?" Wes asked.

"I don't think so, sweetheart. We're searching for a missing link – something that will tell us how our people were infected with these alien particles, and give us a clue as to how to get rid of them."

"Something missing from the station that was there before?"

"I didn't mean literally –" Beverly began.

"Doctor," Data interjected. "The boy has a point. There is an element missing from the outpost that was present during our mission."

"What, Data?"

"There are no clones. The Vareshk abducted Lt. La Forge and left a clone in his place for us to find. To get it aboard the shuttle…" he paused as he saw the light dawn in the faces of his colleagues. "Lt. Yar and I picked it up and carried it."

Beverly was suddenly as alert as if she'd been doused with water. "A dermal conducting agent. Your tricorder readings are in the ship's computer, right? Nurse, I need those scans up on the monitor. Crusher to Bridge."

"Torres here."

"Open a channel to the Crazy Horse science team. Computer, drop quarantine fields at eight and nine." There was a buzz and a flash around Tasha and Sanjay. "I think we can be reasonably certain that there's no further danger of cross-contamination. Whatever you breathed in at the outpost needed a dermal element in order to grow. Nurse, you can remove the sensor nets from Lt. Yar and Ensign Mehta."

"Hallelujah." Tasha hopped down from the biobed and spread out her arms as the nurse got to work.

Geordi looked reflective. "I wonder if the away team from the Ajax encountered the same problem. The Vareshk left a clone of Ensign Mehta behind for them, too."

Will was resolute. "We should get a message to the Ajax immediately. Doctor, are we clear to leave sickbay?'

"Yes, Commander. But I want you two back as soon as I have an antidote."

Will and Geordi nodded to each other and hurried out.

"Doctor, can I go change into uniform?" Tasha asked.

Beverly smiled. "A little more of your patience, Lieutenant. That's all I ask. Crusher to Bridge – I'd like that channel routed to my office." She gave Wes a pointed look. "Don't you have school, young man?"

Wes responded with a champion eye roll. He walked out of sickbay, saying, "You're welcome," under his breath.

* * *

><p>"The alien particles have been completely eradicated in the sample," Beverly announced. "It'll be a two-step process, Tasha; first, a hypospray, then we'll irradiate your cells. You're only going to be under for about 20 minutes."<p>

"Understood, Doctor. I can't believe they told the truth about the antidote," Tasha replied.

Beverly's face lit up with a diabolical smile. "They suddenly became cooperative, once the Crazy Horse threatened to transport their lab aboard piece by piece. The notion of turning over their work to the Federation seemed to irk them."

"I'd like to irk them for a while," Tasha muttered.

Beverly turned to Data. "Commander, the procedure will take less time for you. Your unique physiology protected you from the wide dispersal that Lt. Yar and Ensign Mehta underwent. We won't have to sedate you." Beverly paused. "Not that I'd know how."

"Very well, Doctor," Data conceded.

"All right, Tasha. Here we go." Beverly injected her with the hypo. "No dreams this time."

And the doctor was right – Tasha didn't see a thing as her world went dark.

When she came around, Tasha saw Sanjay sitting up at the station beside her. She smiled up at him. "Feeling better?"

He took a deep breath and let it out. "Much. I don't feel like I'm losing my mind anymore." He took another deep breath, as if the sensation were new. "I feel like myself again."

Tasha grinned. "I'm happy for you."

Beverly came over and scanned her. "No sign of the contaminant. Brain activity normal. Lt. Yar, you may return to duty, as soon as the anesthesia wears off completely."

Tasha sat up to check – yes, she still felt groggy. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Cdr. Data is on the bridge, and Cdr. Riker and Lt. La Forge are in their quarters, hopefully getting some rest, like I ordered."

"Good to hear. When are _you _ going to get some rest, Doctor?" Tasha asked.

"Trust me, Tasha, as soon as I discharge you two, my next stop is my pillow."

* * *

><p>"Onscreen."<p>

On the captain's order, the white-haired visage of Captain Garling filled the main viewer on the bridge. "Captain Picard."

"Captain Garling. We're nearly ready to deliver your engineer to your care," Picard announced.

"Good. I'm getting a three-for-one deal, thanks to your staff. Two of my officers were on medical leave. We thought it was psychological distress, after we lost Mehta at Vega Mar VI. Turns out they were chock full of alien particles," Capt. Garling drawled.

"Glad to be of service, Garling."

"'At's a fine crew you have there. Picard. Cream of the crop," Garling praised.

"I appreciate the compliment. I certainly like to think so," Picard answered with a half smile.

"We await transport of Ensign Mehta. Garling out."

* * *

><p>Tasha and Sanjay walked to his guest quarters, feeling solidarity as they strode through the halls in their pajamas and slippers in the middle of the afternoon. When they reached his door, they both hesitated.<p>

"Do you want to come in? I just have to change," said Sanjay.

"Sure."

Inside, Tasha sat cross-legged on the couch and spoke loudly enough to be heard in the next room. "Are you still thinking of leaving Starfleet?"

"Not anymore. I know I'll have a lot to work through when I get back to the Ajax, but I don't feel like it's impossible, the way I did before." Sanjay came out dressed in uniform and sat next to Tasha to put on his boots. "I feel better equipped to return to my life."

"That's great," Tasha said. After a moment of indecision, she went on. "Did you dream about anything besides the outpost while you were infected? Dr. Crusher said that the Vareshk were trying to get us to talk about secrets aloud in our sleep. Did you dream of anything else you wanted to keep secret?"

He reflected, and then laughed, something Tasha hadn't heard from him before. "I don't think so, no. My life is an open book. I kinda had a reputation on the ship as a big mouth. I'm not good at keeping secrets, except for the ones that keep the Federation safe."

"Hmm." Tasha dropped the subject. He was less like her than she thought, even though they'd shared a powerful experience.

Sanjay finished fastening his boots and slapped his thighs. "I guess that's it. It's not like I have anything to pack."

They both stood. "Do you want to say goodbye to Counselor Troi, or –" Tasha began.

"No – I'd rather not. I feel like I've been enough of a burden on this crew. I don't want to take up any more of anyone's time," Sanjay said with chagrin.

"I don't think they'd see it that way," Tasha contradicted.

"Still." He reached out his hand. "I'm saying goodbye to the one person who'll remember me."

Tasha took his hand and pulled him in for a hug. He was gaunt, and she could feel his sharp shoulder blades through his uniform. "Of course I will. We all will."

"Thanks for being a friend when I needed one," Sanjay murmured.

Tasha pulled back and looked into his dark brown eyes. His black hair was disheveled, and his brown skin had the fresh, unlined look befitting his youth. They _had_ shared something – she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek in what she hoped was a sisterly way. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Lt. Yar. Goodbye." His gaze held her blue eyes for a long moment.

"'Bye." Tasha left quickly.

She felt as if people were looking at her funny as she walked through the corridors in her nightclothes. She entered the turbolift and got lost in her thoughts.

* * *

><p>That night, Tasha was sitting up in bed with a padd, trying to tire herself with tedious administrative work. Her sleepwake cycle was off, but she hoped that lying in bed was close enough to sleeping to save her from arriving exhausted to her bridge shift in the morning. They had the propulsion experiments tomorrow, and security team leader meetings in the afternoon…

The door chime interrupted her train of thought. "Come in," she said.

"Tasha?"

Hearing Data's voice immediately made her feel more relaxed. "In here."

Data came through her bedroom door in his stocking feet. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not." She patted the bed beside her.

Data hopped up with casual adroitness. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Glad it's over." She put down the padd. "You?"

"The Vareshki particulate matter never affected me adversely. I experienced no malfunction."

"I know. I'm jealous," Tasha said dryly.

"Were all of your dreams disturbing?" Data asked.

"They weren't really dreams, at the end. They were mostly memories."

"Were all of your memories disturbing?" Data asked, meticulously correcting his choice of words.

Tasha thought it over and broke into a smile. "Not all of them, no. I guess you and I have a secret that's kinda nice."

"Then, you dreamed of me?"

The expectant, innocent expression on his face touched her, and made her heart beat faster. "I dreamed of _us._ Our first time."

"I ascertained as much. Thank you for corroborating my supposition. But if I may ask –"

"Yes?"

"Is that a pleasant memory for you? It made you extremely angry at the time."

Tasha opened and shut her mouth, searching for the words to say. "Oh, Data, that's water under the bridge. At the time, I felt embarrassed for giving in to my feelings about you. I've obviously come around since then." She took his wrist with one hand and wound her fingers through his with the other.

"You seemed ashamed. You told me later that it never happened," Data reminded her.

Tasha made an exasperated sound. "Data, what good is it to bring that up? I don't count that day among my proudest moments." She scooted closer to him. "You know what I remember? I remember what a relief it was to resolve the tension between us. I remember that it was fun, and you made me laugh." She put her head on his shoulder. "And you were sweet. You made me feel good. As hard as I tried, there was no turning back after that." She felt shy talking about her feelings, and was grateful not to be looking at him.

"I made you feel good," he repeated. "The phrase is a simple one for you, Tasha. I wonder if you can conceive of how unfathomable I find the concepts therein."

"The concept of making me feel good?" She stretched out flat and pulled him down with her. "I think you're an expert."

"The concept of feeling good," Data clarified, giving her a subtle push with his hips. "I know with complete certainty that you find that pleasurable, but I will never truly understand what that means."

"Hey, never say never. Who knows what the future holds? Until then, you can feel vicariously through me," she said lightly, working at the neck of his uniform.

"Impossible," he replied.

"You and I are together, and you call _that _impossible?"

She was joking, bantering with him, but Data was serious, as always. While his sexuality program allowed him to mimic the behavior of a human male, he knew that there was a great divide between what he did and perceived, and what a human would feel. The program was so elaborate that, once begun, he had few available resources to commit to other tasks. He employed all of his senses to partake in the experience, and used perceptual units that otherwise served no purpose, save the aesthetic demands of his human appearance.

Tasha's responses generated a web of information for Data to decipher and process for feedback: the heat of her body, the size of her pupils, the tension of her muscles, the quickness of her breath, her vocalizations, her movements, the moisture on her skin, inside her mouth, inside her, each element triggered a fractal relay of questions and answers more intricate than a nebular map. What was for a human a simple, fundamental instinct was for the android an activity of the highest complexity. What she did came naturally, even involuntarily, but for him, the act of love would always be deliberate, built from the foundation of his programming and overlaid with recollected experiences. Though he could try to emulate it, he knew it was impossible to achieve her animal spontaneity. This knowledge did not prevent him from continuing to try.

He held her afterwards, her slim, smooth back, slightly slick with perspiration, warm against his chest, expanding and contracting with her slowing breath. She did not always allow him to hold her, but her mood tonight seemed open. It was only proper that he try to create an atmosphere that his program categorized as "afterglow."

As if she were privy to his thoughts, Tasha said, "You've got the post-coital cuddling down pat."

"Did I make you feel good?" Data asked.

She stroked his foot with hers. "Couldn't you tell? I'm not quiet about it."

"No, you are not," Data agreed. He held her closer. She was soft, and the shaved hair below her ears was dark and damp. He rubbed his nose against the fine textured surface and inhaled – soap, glycerin, dimethicone, and an unclassified smell that was distinctly her. He kissed her neck. "What does it feel like?"

"What does what feel like?" she asked softly.

"How I make you feel."

Tasha turned over and faced him. "That's hard to put into words, Data."

"Could you attempt it?" he asked.

At the hopeful look in his eyes, she couldn't help but try. "Well, you're talking about a primal urge, you know, the perpetuation of the species. The payoff for giving in to it is pretty big."

"I do not understand."

She put a hand to his pale face and touched his soft lips with her fingertips. "Data, it's the nicest, most intensely pleasurable feeling anyone can feel."

His brow furrowed. "But I do not know what it is to feel a feeling, pleasurable or not."

She sighed. "Well, when I look at you, I feel…warm inside. Like my stomach is…wiggly."

"Warm and wiggly," Data repeated.

Tasha giggled. "And when you touch me, or kiss me, the warm feeling gets warmer. Sometimes, it feels like I'm burning up."

"Like a fever?" Data essayed.

"Sorta, but it feels nice. And when you're inside me…" She broke off and shook her head. "I don't know what to say. It's indescribable."

He nodded and processed her words. After a time, he asked, "Is that love?"

Tasha stiffened. Like a switch being thrown, her mood radically changed. She gathered the blanket to her neck and sat up. Data waited.

When she finally spoke, her tone was hard. "You pick these moments when I'm completely vulnerable, and you catch me off guard."

"I am sorry –"

Her temper was gathering momentum too quickly to allow him to finish. "Why can't you be happy with the way things are? Why do you always have to push me?"

"I can be neither happy nor unhap –"

"You always come around to this, when I've told you I'm not ready to talk about it," Tasha snapped.

Data's tone was as placid as ever. "When will you be ready?"

"I don't know!" She was balling up the blanket in her hands without noticing. She swore under her breath. "I want some time to think right now. Alone."

Data allowed an expression of appeasement to flick across his features. "Would it be acceptable if I –"

"Goddammit, Data, can't you take a hint? Leave!" Tasha flipped over facedown on the bed and pulled the blanket over her head, a gesture she knew was childish, but she couldn't stop herself. She waited as she felt him get up, heard him get dressed, and heard the swish of her bedroom door. She threw the blanket back and sat up. She heard the faint whoosh of her outer door.

She punched her bolster once, and then again, harder. It didn't make her feel any better – she knew she'd overreacted. She hadn't seen it, but she could imagine the wounded look Data must have taken on. She gave the bolster another punch and buried her face in her hands.


	13. Chapter 13

As Data walked back to his quarters, he pondered the veracity of Tasha's statements. Was he, in fact, fixated on the idea that she should love him? The problem seemed to originate from his programming – a root requirement that he seek out connections with other beings and develop relationships that could evolve, that were as dynamic as he. Among his aspirations was lodged a picture of a traditional family unit, a prosaic goal, perhaps, and an anomalous one for a Starfleet officer, but it was there, nonetheless. Whoever had programmed him had thought love an essential component of a fulfilled, productive life. Data sought love in all its forms: the friendship he had forged with Geordi, the mutual admiration and respect he was developing with the captain, the benevolence he extended as a de facto courtesy to all living beings. But his programmers had not prepared him for a paradoxical relationship with an emotionally challenged woman who was as ill equipped to understand the true nature of love as he was.

Data entered his cabin and the lights came on automatically. If he was indeed fixated on the idea that she should love him, he wondered if Tasha could fault him for it, if she would give the matter due consideration. The family unit he aspired to attain seemed proximate, just within their grasp, and yet elusive. If only Tasha could commit to undertaking the endeavor with him. Together, they might explore their unanswerable questions about love, if only she would try.

* * *

><p>Tasha lay in the dark of her bedroom, on the edge of sleep, her mind racing too fast and erratically to send her over the precipice. Her thoughts centered on her blowup at Data for a while, circling around feelings of resentment and fear, anger, and shame. If she went for it, gave in to him, committed to him, what next? She knew he wouldn't stop pushing her until he had her exactly where he wanted her – trapped in a traditional relationship that she wasn't sure she wanted. What did it mean – to be in love, to be married, to become a parent? She had no basis for comparison. It all seemed like a trap, an impediment to her career goals, and a barrier to her personal growth. Who would she be, if she depended on someone else for her happiness? If she defined herself through her relationship with someone else? She couldn't see herself as someone's girlfriend, someone's object to be toyed with, yes: someone's toy. It wasn't right – she was her own woman, and no one should threaten that. Ever since she'd escaped the colony, she'd pulled herself up by her bootstraps and overcome every obstacle to attain the position she'd presently achieved. She didn't intend to live out her life alone, but neither did she intend to bow to anyone's will.<p>

Her thoughts turned to the images that had haunted her over the past few nights. She chalked up her overreaction to Data's simple question to stress from the ordeal. For years, she had buried those thoughts, only to have them unearthed by the alien contaminant. She remembered the first day she'd resolved to recreate her history, and leave some of the past hidden in the past. The day of her rescue….

It had felt unreal to finally achieve her goal, to be in the presence of her saviors. She remembered the horror and disbelief in the eyes of the away team, as they saw the wretched state of the colony, of her. She remembered their questions.

"Are you hurt?"

"What's your name?"

"Is there anyone else with you?"

They looked so perfect and good, those Starfleet officers, in the old style uniforms, brick red, with a flap over the chest edged in black and fastened with a single gold epaulet. Tasha answered most of their questions truthfully, but made a snap decision on the last one. She could just imagine trying to lead them into Coalition territory, to rescue one little girl whom they'd have to forcibly drag away to free her from her chosen prison. Tasha could just see her own humiliation, to show those tall, clean heroes that her little sister would rather die on that rock than come away with her.

"No, no one's with me. My whole family is dead. I'm all alone."

All alone she'd struggled to re-enter society. With help, of course, but in the end, the effort was hers alone. And life basically came down to that – even among a group of people that was earning her trust, the phenomenal bridge crew of the Enterprise, when all was said and done, she was essentially alone. Everyone was born alone, and everyone would die alone. What happened between was a challenge, a privilege, a chance that so many others on the colony had never had. A chance to make something of her life. To be brave. To show everyone that, despite her past, her future was unwritten, and she could be the woman she wanted to be. Where did love fit in all of that? It was an unfathomable ocean whose depths could not be plumbed. It was too deep for a warrior like her.

She turned over and tried to sleep. Her mind spun and raced, refusing to bend to her will.

* * *

><p>Tasha entered the bridge at 0800 hours and nodded coldly in response to the greetings of the other crew on duty. She relieved the officer at tactical and began scrolling through the security reports. She was no longer angry, but her pride wouldn't allow her to let go of her perceived affront. She didn't feel like talking to Data or anyone else, and gave one-word answers to the playful banter of her crewmates. Her mood cast a pall over the bridge.<p>

The captain and the counselor came on duty at 0900 hours. As they bid everyone good morning, Tasha made an effort to sweeten her sour attitude. She wasn't keen on the Betazoid picking up on her feelings, or the reasons behind them.

"Captain," said the officer at science station one, "We've received specifications from Mr. Kosinski for the propulsion experiments this afternoon."

"Very well," Picard replied. "Number One, I want you to take charge of the experiments."

"Aye, sir," Riker acknowledged. "Mr. Data, I'd like your help in engineering. Ensign, transfer the specs to the modeling lab."

"Yes, sir."

Data and Will left the bridge. As a relief officer took ops, Tasha went to the replicator and ordered a cup of coffee. Geordi got up from the conn and joined her.

"Well?" he asked.

She took a sip and tried to hide her annoyance. "Well, what?" Behind his visor, she could see Geordi's concern. "Did he talk to you?"

"Yes," Geordi replied. Tasha tsked in frustration. "Can you blame him, Tasha? He doesn't understand why you put the brakes on."

The blond security chief breathed out an angry sigh through her nose. "This is not the time or place to discuss it. And it's –"

"None of my business," Geordi finished for her. "Yeah, I know." He hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. "But I care about you. Both of you. I don't like to see you unhappy."

Part of her wanted to acknowledge his kindness, and appreciated his reaching out to her. Geordi was a true friend, and she felt his sincerity. At the same time, part of her resented that Data had told him what had happened last night. How much had the android told his best friend? Data had no qualms about revealing personal information that a human might consider private. What if he'd made her out to be the bad guy? He could have replayed their conversation word for intimate word, if he'd felt so inclined. The thought of it made Tasha's blood boil.

Geordi picked up on her troubled expression and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You don't have to say anything," he reassured her. "Just know that I'm here for you." He went back to the helm and took his seat.

Tasha took a gulp of coffee and slid the cup into the dematerialization slot. She retook her post at tactical, her mood more confused, if not worsened.

* * *

><p>"Computer, run simulation again." Data and Will watched the monitor at an engineering station. The modeler ran the program from beginning to end.<p>

"No change. Is this some kind of joke?" Before Data could answer, Will added, "Rhetorical question."

"Yes, sir," Data said.

The chief engineer on duty came over. "What seems to be the problem, Commander?"

"Mr. Argyle, take a look at these specs." Will brought up Kosinski's transmission on the monitor. "What do you make of them?"

Argyle pulled at his beard. "Could the data have been corrupted? No offense, sir," he said aside to the second officer.

"None taken," Data replied.

"Riker to Mission Ops."

"Worf here."

"Worf, double check the transmission from the Fearless. I want to rule out the possibility that the specs they sent are incomplete or incorrect."

"Aye, sir."

Riker turned to Data and Argyle. "If this _is _someone's idea of a joke, I'm not laughing."

Will and Data returned to the bridge some time later. Deanna was alone in the bank of central command seats.

"Where's the captain?" Will asked.

"He's in his ready room. What's wrong?" Deanna responded.

"I have some concerns I'd like to bring to his attention." Will checked the time on the armrest monitor. "Almost lunch. It'll have to wait."

"Attention to promptness is required: the rendezvous with the Fearless is scheduled for 1300 hours," Data noted.

"That should be no problem for you, Lieutenant Commander," Tasha said icily, "since your requirements don't include rest or food."

Will looked back at her and then over at Deanna, who returned his look of mischievous delight with one of concern. It was the most that Tasha had said all morning.

"That is true, Lieutenant, though I trust you are not implying that food and rest are the sole requirements for a biological being's happiness," Data replied cryptically.

Tasha's eyes bored holes into the second officer's back. "Cdr. Riker, with your permission, I'd like to take my break now," she said evenly.

"Granted," Will replied.

Tasha got on the turbolift, folding her arms and staring stonily ahead as the doors closed.

"She has the right idea; care to join me for lunch?" Will asked Deanna.

She got gracefully to her feet as an answer.

Will handed her up the ramp to the turbolift, saying, "You have the bridge, Mr. Data."

The android left ops and took a command chair. "Aye, sir."

As soon as the turbolift doors closed, Will turned to Deanna with a conspiratorial look. "Deck 10. So, they're fighting again, aren't they?"

Deanna looked at him sidelong, and was resolutely silent.

"C'mon, I know you can tell," he wheedled. "You could've cut the tension on the bridge with a knife."

Deanna made a show of examining her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Will went on, undeterred. "The thing I don't get is, if it's not really working out for them, why don't they break up?"

The doors opened on deck 10, and they got out. "You're not going to say a word about it, are you?" Will asked.

Deanna grinned, showing her pink gums below her glossy burgundy-painted lips. "Nice weather we're having."

Will poked her in the ribs with an elbow and took her arm in his as they strolled down the corridor to Ten-Forward.


	14. Chapter 14

Deanna returned to the bridge from the transporter room and took a seat at the captain's side.

"Well, Counselor?" Picard asked.

Her tone was neutral. "An unusual pair. I'm not sure if the first officer's concerns are well founded or not, sir. It's too soon to tell."

"Understood."

"Do you think the visitors pose a security threat, Counselor?" Tasha asked.

Deanna's dark eyes were a mystery. "I honestly can't say. I think we should all stay alert."

No amount of alertness could have prepared the crew of the Enterprise for the result of the propulsion experiment. They were hurtled millions of light years away from their galaxy, so far that only Data would live long enough to survive the return trip at warp nine, unless they could find another way back. The captain's announcement to the crew did nothing to make the reality of what had happened any more concrete.

Kosinski arrived on the bridge, followed by Riker and Argyle. One didn't need empathic powers to notice his arrogance. He called the disaster a "wonderful, incredible mistake." Tasha's mind was still reeling from their fantastic journey. She clung to the wooden railing of her station as if to ground herself. When Kosinski sauntered away, she tried to get her bearings as the captain invited the advice of his bridge crew. Tasha had nothing to contribute – here was a problem that couldn't be solved by fighting, that was brought about through no unfriendly act. What advice could she offer? One by one, her colleagues voiced their opinions. Data suggested that they stay where they were – she couldn't disagree more. Home was the Enterprise, but that didn't mean she wanted to live out her days lost in some remote galaxy. She was relieved when the captain decided to go back. Federation space was where they belonged.

But then, instead of returning home, their second trip shot them faster than a torpedo through a kaleidoscope of galaxies, as if they were watching a sped-up holovideo. The inertial dampeners were pushed to the limit. The captain called for a full stop, and they found themselves in a place no human eyes had ever seen. The images on the main viewer boggled the mind. Every person on the bridge stopped and stared – where were they? And how could they possibly get home?

Home. The concept had never seemed more amorphous to Tasha then at that moment. Home was a galaxy scarcely explored, yet more familiar than this fantasy landscape. Home was an enormous map of planets and stars in stellar cartography; home was being a few days' journey from Earth. Their travels before that day had covered a vast area of space, and never had those thousands of light years seemed so infinitesimal as they did now. It was terrifying, but Tasha, like everyone else on the bridge, maintained an outward professional dispassion, despite her fear.

After the captain recorded the phenomenon in the ship's log and left for engineering, his anger barely contained, Geordi was the first to notice that something was amiss.

Behind the navigator, Tasha asked, "What is it?"

"A Klingon targ," Worf answered.

Both officers' attention focused on a spot on the floor near the door to the lounge. Worf was smiling, something that Geordi had never seen, and reaching out to pet…nothing. But both Tasha and Worf acted as if something were there. Geordi looked at the other crewmembers for their reactions. Data looked back at the helmsman, as puzzled as he.

Worf pulled away suddenly, and still, no one reacted but Tasha. What was the deal? What were they seeing? Geordi looked over at Data again. The android had remained at ops, though he was the senior officer on the bridge. Data's eyes were focused on the aft station.

Geordi followed his sightline. Now Tasha was behaving strangely, first cuddling and caressing something on the tactical console that clearly wasn't there, and then crouching behind her station, as if in hiding. Geordi saw her temperature skyrocket; she seemed to be frightened. It was more than the crazy images on the viewscreen – she was shivering and looking around her as if she were in mortal danger. With another glance back at Data, Geordi left the helm and went to the cowering security chief. He put a hand to her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, gasping as if he'd just pulled a phaser on her.

"Tasha, what's wrong? You look scared to death."

Tasha clutched at him with both hands. Her voice was utterly confused. "I was…I was…" She realized that she was squeezing Geordi with all her might and let him go, her fingers wide. She looked herself over, as if for reassurance. Geordi waited, as she seemed to come to.

"This is crazy," Tasha began, her voice normal once more. She held him by the arms again, this time to convey her sincerity. "I was at the colony where I grew up, being chased by a rape gang."

Behind them, everyone at the aft stations reacted, including Worf. She'd blurted it out like it was a normal fact. Geordi kept his focus on Tasha. "Are you all right?" She nodded, trying to convince herself as much as him. "Well, you're safe now."

She smoothed down his sleeves, attempting to smile, succeeding only in compressing her lips. She looked over her shoulder at Data, who was standing up next to the operations console and staring at her.

"An aftereffect of the Vareshki chemicals, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"No, Data. I was really there. It wasn't a memory or a dream. I was just _there,_ and it felt as real as this does." She looked over at Worf for corroboration.

"That targ was here – it was not a dream. You saw what I saw," the big Klingon rumbled.

The operations officer at Science 1 suddenly jumped back with a strangled cry. He stepped forward to the station again. "Bessie…" He reached towards nothing that Geordi could see.

"Bessie?" Tasha squeaked, recoiling from nothing that Geordi could pick up on any part of the light spectrum.

"My boa constrictor. She should be at home with my folks." He looked up at Tasha. "It's okay – she's friendly, unless she's hungry." He looked back down. "My god, she's gone!"

The klaxons sounded suddenly, and the bridge glowed red with the lights of full alert. Geordi quickly took his seat at the comm., while Data sat back down at ops. The captain had also sounded general quarters.

Picard's mellifluous voice came over the speakers."This is the captain. This is not a drill. It seems that in this place, the world of the physical universe and the world of ideas is somehow intermixed."

The bridge crew looked around at each other. The captain had solved the mystery for them, but the implications were astounding.

"What we think also becomes a reality. We must, therefore, I repeat, _must_ begin controlling our thoughts."

Worf stood at Tasha's shoulder. She leaned on her station, still shaken by the manifestation of her thoughts. It _had _been real. She could think something, and it would appear for anyone to see, or for her to experience. She bristled at the idea, and consciously cleared her mind of everything but the duties at hand.

"We will give you more on this as our understanding increases. The Enterprise will stay at full alert until the crisis is over."

The end of the captain's message unloosed a torrent of comment on the bridge.

"Did you see anything, Data?" Geordi asked.

"I saw nothing unusual, beyond what appears on the viewscreen," he replied.

"Our thoughts intermix with reality…" Worf repeated.

"Don't think of anything," counseled Tasha. "Just do as the captain said. Control your thoughts."

But it was tempting, the power of that place. To create reality with just a thought… Every person on the bridge, save one, fought an internal struggle against the temptation to experiment with the wild scenario. Data was the only one who was free of curiosity, for once. The captain had given an order; he would follow it to the letter.

Deanna returned to the bridge, and not long after, so did the captain. The crew prepared once more to try to return home, armed this time with the captain's exhortation to focus their thoughts on the wellbeing of the mysterious Traveler, or on their duties. Under the glowing vermilion lights, they carried out their work like the consummate professionals they were. There was a moment of fear, on the cusp of failure, as the ship moved infinitely fast, but too slow to return them to Federation space. And then, with an explosion of light, the stars were once again in their familiar places, and they were home.

* * *

><p>Life immediately returned to normal, in the fashion of Starfleet expectations. Tasha sat in Ten-Forward that night, alone at the bar with a steaming cup of almond milk and a padd containing the damage reports from the crisis. A civilian singer with a six-string guitar performed in the front corner of the lounge. Not even a trip to the edge of the universe could disrupt the schedule of the Enterprise. The only real change to the day's routine had been Wesley's promotion to Acting Ensign – an almost whimsical decision on the captain's part, but Tasha assumed he had good reason.<p>

Tasha's eyes swam as she tried to read the report from sickbay for the third time. The letters ran together on the screen. She put a hand over her eyes. Even if everyone around her could go back to life as normal without a pause, she couldn't. There was too much to think about. It didn't help that the singer had chosen a set of melancholy songs for the concert. The lyrics kept intruding on Tasha's concentration, scattering her thoughts like ball bearings spilled from a box.

The singer played a bossa nova rhythm and sang into the microphone, "It won't do, to stir a deep desire, to fan a hidden fire that can never burn true…"

"May I join you?"

Tasha took her hand from her eyes. Data stood beside her, deferential and polite. His gentle, passive expression irritated her inexplicably.

"No one's stopping you." She picked up the padd again.

Data took the stool beside her and shook his head at the bartender's inquiry. Tasha pretended to read, but in reality, she was listening to the singer, who seemed to be singing directly to the brooding blond.

"I know your name; I know your skin; I know the way these things begin…"

"Have you decided how long you intend to be angry with me?" Data asked.

Tasha sighed. As if that was what humans did… "That's a loaded question if I ever heard one."

Data considered. "You appear to still be angry. I do not know if it is in reaction to our conversation last night, or if you are proving a point by exhibiting outrage."

"What point is that, Data?" she asked, her tone dangerous.

He studied her expression in silence. She couldn't lose her temper with him here, in public, but neither could they talk candidly, in this open place where she'd be forced to remain civil. He began to think that he had, perhaps, erred.

The singer came out of the guitar solo. "So goodbye, sweet appetite, no single bite could satisfy…"

"All she's sung are a bunch of sad songs. I think we could use some cheering up, after all that happened today," Tasha complained.

"Minor key," Data offered.

"Hmmm?"

"The tonal mode of the song is what equates it with sadness. The lowered third of the seven-note scale–"

"I didn't ask for a music lesson." Tasha deliberately held up her padd and stared at it.

"The point, that we disagree on a fundamental issue in our relationship," he said, as if there had been no interruption in the topic.

Tasha slapped the padd down, drawing looks from the bartender and a couple at the end of the bar. She bit her lip. "Yes. We disagree."

Scattered applause greeted the end of the song. Data clapped politely, and then leaned in close to her, lowering his voice so that no one but Tasha could possibly hear. "The fundamental issue being, is our relationship a friendship, or is it something more?"

The singer started another song, another sad song from the sound of the introduction. "By day give thanks, by night beware, half the world in sweetness, the other in fear…"

At the same instant that Tasha felt angry at Data for choosing this time and place for a discussion she'd asked him to put off, his proximity affected her. His breath across her ear as he spoke reminded her of other moments, moments alone, when the questions he whispered were of a much more intimate nature. She felt her ears grow hot and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Data, I don't want to talk about my feelings. I want to live my life, not dissect it. Our relationship is our relationship. I don't see why we have to talk about it."

"Then, I return to my original question," he said, unruffled. "How long do you intend to be angry with me?"

She took a sip of her drink, which had cooled. "I'm not angry."

"You behave as if you were," he contradicted gently.

She couldn't meet his eyes.

"I saw that you were in distress on the bridge, earlier today. I did not go to you, though I wanted to. I did not wish to have you reject my help."

Tasha tried to fight the feeling in her middle, warm and loose, like a fist uncurling, or a hard lump of wax melting. "I wouldn't have rejected you."

Data tried to draw her gaze. "I do not believe that you can say that statement with one hundred percent certainty."

She finally looked at him, into his golden eyes that had hints of blue in the low light. "You saw –"

"You looked frightened. I have had some success in comforting you before. I did not think it would be the case this time."

Whatever was melting inside her was starting to make her feel warm all over. "I'm not angry," she repeated. This time, it felt true.

"A change to the major," Data said.

"What?"

"The song. The mode has changed from minor to major. A happy sound," Data explained.

Tasha picked up her padd and got down from the barstool. "Why don't we talk in my quarters?" she offered.

"As you wish." Data got down and followed her out. To all appearances, they were two officers, friends, a space between them, and no sign of a special tie beyond the closeness that was developing between everyone on the bridge crew.

The singer's voice followed them out. "I would shelter you and keep you in light, but I can only teach you night vision…"

* * *

><p>Inside her cabin, Tasha took off her shoes and loosened the top of her uniform. Data imitated her, which made her smile. They both wore black undershirts beneath, and black socks. They were often dressed identically, down to their underwear, Tasha's bra the only difference.<p>

They sat down on the couch in the living area and she put her feet up on the low table. "You wanted to talk – so talk."

"Why are you reluctant to tell me how you feel about me?" Data asked.

Tasha was immediately cagey. "You know how I feel. Why do we have to discuss it?"

"I do not know why it is important to me, Tasha. However, I know that it is."

"Data, what is there to say? I like you. You like me. Isn't that enough?" She put both hands over her eyes. "I'm so tired of this conversation already. We go round and round in circles whenever we talk about it. What do you want from me?"

Data was incapable of lying or hedging. "Your love," he answered simply.

It hit Tasha like a blow to the chest. "Why? _Why? _How do you even know what that means?"

"How can I know, if you do not feel it for me?" he countered.

"But I don't know what I feel – I don't know!" She had the strongest urge to get up and run away, literally run out the door in her socks, start running and keep running until she'd gotten as far away as she could on that ship. She sat still, but only by dint of a great effort.

"Why are you afraid to explore this question with me?" Data asked, a subtle undercurrent of pleading entering his voice.

His efforts to imitate human behavior and speech patterns always touched her. Who was he, after all, just a machine, a marionette, playacting at life? Or was he a person who could be as lost and confused as she was, and who was worthy of her trust?

She decided to come clean. "Data, that's just it. I _am _afraid. I'm afraid if I give in, if I love you, then… something bad is going to happen to you. Or you'll leave me." Tears started in the corners of her eyes, to her embarrassment. "That's how it's always been for me. Everyone I loved or could've loved is gone. I feel like I'm poisonous, like I kill off anyone I get close to. I just can't…" She broke off, concentrating on stemming the tide of emotion she felt rising within her. Data waited, watching her with concern. She finally regained control. "Friendship is a relationship that works for me. I hope you can forgive me." It was out, now, and she waited fearfully for his response.

Before he spoke, Data pressed a kiss to her temple, in such a spontaneous, natural way that she was taken aback. He sat back and she searched his eyes.

"I do not know what it is to feel fear, but I have seen the powerful effect that it has on humans. I know that I cannot dispel your fears with a rational argument. If you require time to overcome your fears, I cannot deny you the time you need. I will continue to wait, Tasha, until such time that you deem proper to broach the subject again."

Tasha felt a surge of emotion, a different one this time: relief. She'd admitted to Data that she was weak, that she was afraid, and rather than ridiculing her, he'd accepted her. She felt elated. "Thank you, my friend. That's all I ask."

Data lowered his chin and looked at her through his eyelashes. "Then, we are no longer quarreling?"

Tasha shook her head vehemently no.

"Excellent. May we commence making up?"

Tasha laughed and took his head between her hands. She gave him a resounding buss on the lips. He approached her again, slowly, and kissed her seriously, his lips closed, matching her inhalation and exhalation. Her elation began to mix with desire, the lightness mingling with darkness, airiness with earthiness.

He pushed her down gently on the couch and lay alongside her, easing her halfway over him. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, let it go, and touched her lips with his tongue. It amazed her, as it often did, that someone had programmed him to do what he did – whoever had must have loved him, if they had wanted him to experience physical love. Save for a sterility of taste, kissing him was no different from kissing a human; his tongue scraping against hers aroused the same lust that she would have felt for a biological being. He ran a hand over the front of her uniform, slipped it under and stroked one breast, teasing her stiff through two layers of clothing. He traced her waist, her hip, took her thigh in one hand and crushed her to him, so she could feel that he was ready for her, though she knew things wouldn't progress until he had determined that she was ready for him.

He kissed her until her head was spinning, alternating light and fleeting pressure with forceful thrusts of his tongue, while she ground herself against him, straining not to climax with all of their clothes still on. She tugged at his uniform. They broke apart, and she practically tore off her own clothes, flinging them over her shoulder with abandon. She stopped Data from folding his and rose to lead them to her bedroom.

Tasha pinned him against the inside wall, out of the door sensor's field, stretching up on her toes to ravage his mouth, running her hands over the molded contours of his body, then wrapping one leg around him and arching herself against him. He pushed her towards her bed, but she resisted, leaning her weight forward. She didn't care that he couldn't connect what she did to him with pleasure. She still needed to touch him, to show him that despite her mental and emotional ambiguity, physically, she was certain of her feelings about him. He finally picked her up straight off her feet, eliciting a giggle from her.

"Throw me on the bed," she directed.

Data's brow furrowed. "No."

"No?" Tasha's eyes lit up with mischief. "Why not?"

"Because I have been programmed with a strong inhibition against causing harm to living beings."

Tasha laughed. "Data, it won't hurt me. C'mon, just throw me on the bed."

"No."

"Yes." A glint of stubbornness appeared in her eyes.

"No." He showed a neutral obstinacy that bordered on immobility.

"Fine. Then I'll throw you." She wriggled down from his loose hold and made as if to pick him up. He edged out of the way, moving only enough to elude her.

Tasha laughed again. "Data, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I am sorry, Tasha, but I am also programmed with a strong self-preservation instinct. I cannot let you harm me, even in jest," he said apologetically.

"It won't hurt, Data." Tasha tried to take hold of him, and again, he moved out the way.

They began to circle each other warily, both naked, Data completely relaxed, Tasha tense, with her hands low and open. "Data, just let me –" She lunged for him. He avoided her again, his pale body a blur.

What followed next quickly got out of hand. At first, Tasha was laughing and snatching at him playfully. As it dawned on her that she couldn't lay even a finger on him, despite her best efforts, she got more intent. "Stay still! Just for a second. I won't –" Her hands closed on nothing.

Data kept up a conversational tone, despite his incredible speed and dexterity. "Tasha, cease. This is a futile exercise."

She brought out her most skilled maneuvers. She had trained scores of security officers, was an expert hand-to-hand combatant, and yet nothing was working. She started to work up a sweat. "Data, I think you're in the wrong field! You should've been a security officer."

"My interests lie elsewhere. Tasha, please stop." He evaded her reach again. "Stop, Tasha. Tasha." It was fortunate that she had very few furnishings or decorations in the small space. They were covering what little room they had with alacrity.

"Throw me on the bed, and I'll stop." She tried to sweep his legs out from under him; in an instant, he just wasn't there. "You– Just throw me on the bed!"

"No. You cannot succeed–"

"Just –"

"Lieutenant, I order you to stop." He feinted back and twisted away from her counter move.

"Court martial me! Just throw me on the bed, and I'll stop!" She threw a punch at him, shocked at herself, but it didn't matter – she'd connected with air.

"No." He tried to restrain her without hurting her, but she quickly squirmed out of his hold.

"Yes!" She threw an arm at him and went to grab him as he ducked, but failed again. "I won't stop until you do! Just do it!" She scampered around him, throwing a flurry of ineffectual blows.

She finally inspired Data to raise his voice. "All right!" He picked her up and tossed her onto her bed. She skidded across and landed on the floor with a thump.

Data ran over to her with a look of mortification on his face. Tasha was flat on her back between the bed and the wall, breathless with laughter. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down to her, hugging him and laughing so hard that her whole body shook. Data's expression turned to pure confusion.

"You're hard-headed as they come!" she cried, gasping between laughs.

"My cranial unit is composed of several layers of cortenide and duranium –"

He was cut off by Tasha's kiss. She rolled him over and sat astride him. "You know, Data, I love it when you're gentle, but sometimes, it's nice to get a little rough."

He looked at her with uncertainty. "I will not hurt you intentionally, Tasha. I cannot."

"I'm not asking you to, silly. I'm just saying, whatever calculation you use to determine how hard you can be on me, change it up a little." She grinned at him wickedly.

He nodded, put one hand back, and got smoothly to his feet, effortlessly holding Tasha steady with the other hand. "That is a direction with which I can comply."

_A/N: Words from "Where No One Has Gone Before" by Diane Duane & Michael Reaves. Line from "The Most Toys" written by Shari Goddhartz. "Caramel" and "Night Vision" both lyrics/music by Suzanne Vega._


	15. Chapter 15

Two – Protection

Tasha slept with her back to Data, close to the wall, her long legs tucked up like a mollusk in a corner of its shell. Data had had many opportunities to watch her sleep by now – to watch over her as she slept. Tonight, her slumber had been deep enough for him to get up, dress in nightclothes, and return, without waking her. He saw gooseflesh on her bare arm and covered her with the blanket.

He was impressed that she had trusted him enough to admit her fear. It alleviated his drive to elevate the level of their commitment, in line with the expectations of his inter-relational programs. He had suspected that Tasha's feelings for him were stronger than she admitted. Though emotions were a nearly impenetrable puzzle to the android, he had noted that the most primitive ones: fear, lust, and anger, exerted a great deal of power over humans. He had seen the way that fear could drive a crewmate to uncharacteristic actions. It was not an emotion he wished to experience – not if it could reduce the most seasoned officer to unseemly acts. Starfleet training could not always prevent cowardice.

Data had seen Tasha's bravery supersede her fear on more than one occasion; it was requisite to her work. He thought it unjust to unnecessarily or prematurely challenge her to exert the same control over her fear in the context of their relationship. For all of her fierceness, he had seen the chinks in her armor. He was invested in nurturing the growth of her trust in him. He would protect it as necessary, even from his own demands.

Daywatch was approaching. Though Tasha had not set an alarm, she began to show signs of wakefulness. Her blonde lashes fluttered, and she stretched out full length, turning over towards him. He experienced a sense of anticipation – soon, she would regain consciousness, and he could interact with her once more. He had something to show her, and he watched her closely.

She opened her eyes and yawned. Her stretching arms found their way around his neck, and she put her head on his chest and squeezed him. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Data watched as she got out of bed and tended to the necessities of having an organic body. Tasha padded barefoot from room to room, and eventually came into the bedroom again, dressed in a short white bathrobe, holding a cup of coffee.

"Aren't you going to get up?"

"If you would come back to bed, I have something to show you." Data betrayed nothing by his expression.

Tasha arched an eyebrow and sat beside him, resting her cup on the nightstand. "What?"

"I have considered your suggestion that I diversify the calculations I perform to determine how much force I may exert on you."

Tasha touched the padd in her nightstand. It was just after 0600. "Smaller words, please."

"Lie down."

Tasha gave him an appraising look and a little smile. She crawled over him and lay facedown with her cheek on her crossed arms. "What do you have in mind?"

Data's voice was still neutral. "Indicate when you can perceive that I am touching you."

Tasha's smile disappeared as he raised one hand above the back of her neck, where her shaved hair ended in a point. He lowered it slowly, his fingertips hovering above her. He saw the nearly invisible down on her neck rise. He swept his fingers towards her ears, and she gasped.

"I felt that," she said quietly.

He grunted. She had already indicated as much. He lowered one side of her robe, exposing her shoulder, and traced a curve from her hairline to her shoulder blade, over and over, at first not touching her, but coming incrementally closer on each pass until she shivered.

"What are you doing?" her voice quavered.

He eased her robe down and repeated the motion on the other side. "I require empirical information on the range of sensation you are able to feel. I realize that your suggestion last night was prompted by an interest in rough play, but I believe that there is room to experiment in the area of gentleness as well. Would you turn over?"

She obeyed without speaking, looking somewhat cowed. He followed her collarbone with the edge of his thumb, then the back of his knuckles, and then the flat of his hand, watching as her skin flushed pink. A tiny sound escaped her.

He stopped to unknot her robe. She cleared her throat. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course." He pushed back both lapels and held his hand above the skin that quivered with the accelerating pump of her heart.

"How long do you plan to gather empirical information?" Tasha's voice seemed to come from the top of her throat.

"Today is your day off, is it not?"

She could feel the warmth of his hand now, and she closed her eyes. "Mm-hmm."

"Did you have specific plans?"

"I was going to get a haircut…do some chores…but that's not why I asked." It came out haltingly, with the hint of a stutter.

He surrounded one breast with his hand and drew his fingers together to the rosy pink apex, barely making contact, but eliciting a gasp. "Then, why do you ask?" He repeated the motion, closer, his fingers gently tugging at her.

Her breath came out in a shudder. "Because I'm not sure how much more I can stand."

She whimpered and squirmed as he pinched her. "I can enter that factor into my calculations as well. And I have only measured my digital pressure so far. I am also able to exert a refined degree of lingual control."

Her only answer was a helpless little moan.

* * *

><p>Tasha had a spring in her step as she took her clothes from the cleaning unit and put them away. The computer was playing music – she didn't know what it was, but she'd asked for singers and drums and guitars and the word 'happy.' So far, the computer had had pretty good taste.<p>

The door chimed. "Come in!" Tasha sang out.

Deanna entered, a smile lighting her patrician face. The happiness emanating from Tasha was contagious. "Am I interrupting you?"

"No, Troi, just putting away my laundry." Tasha wore a lemon yellow mock turtleneck under a powder blue overall patterned with darker blue swirls. She was barefoot, and she marched in time to the music as she went from the appliance to her closet.

Deanna peeked inside the open doors. "Tasha, we should go shopping, next time we have shore leave."

"What makes you say that?" Tasha hung up another uniform and grabbed Deanna's hands, swinging them side-to-side to the beat.

Deanna smiled. "You have so few things. Your wardrobe could use a little…help, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know." Tasha dropped the Betazoid's hands and went back to the cleaning processor. "Can't quite see the point." She grabbed a bundle of undershirts and pressed the lock on a drawer.

"The point is; you can use clothes to express yourself – to match your mood. You're in such a good mood right now."

Tasha finished folding the clothes and keyed the drawer shut. "I'm just – I feel happy."

"I know. It's been a while. Maybe we can cancel our extra sessions."

"I think so." Tasha began matching black socks. "The thing is, Troi, when you grow up poor, it's difficult to shake your instincts. On the colony, I couldn't own too much of anything. I had to be able to pack up and move quickly. Clothes are just functional – if they cover my body, they're doing their job."

Deanna felt an inward deflation. Was there any subject that wasn't a loaded one for Tasha? Admittedly, Deanna had no way to match the younger woman's experience – growing up, she'd had everything she wanted, and hardly needed to ask, as her telepathic mother always showered her with attention. Well, almost everything. "It's never too late to break old habits. We have leave in a couple of weeks – should we make a date? Wouldn't it be fun?"

Tasha threw her socks in a draw and keyed it shut. "Sure! I won't turn down a chance to spend time together." Tasha grabbed Deanna's again and marched in place. "Ooh, you make lovin' fun…" There was a repeated line in the song and she'd finally caught the words.

"What is this?" Deanna spun Tasha around.

"I don't know – the computer chose it. Has a good beat, though." Tasha spun Deanna and giggled. "Don't mind me – I'm just being silly."

Deanna grinned. "I know – I like it!"

Tasha spun herself around. "It's all I wanna do!" she sang.

* * *

><p>"Geordi, what is the significance of this item?" Data was in the helmsman's quarters, exploring the knickknacks on one shelf. Ever since Geordi had told the android that he didn't mind if Data played with his things – just before the second officer had reprogrammed Geordi's laser razor with such precision that it could peel the skin off a tomato – Data had given his curiosity free reign in Geordi's room. Geordi's patience rivaled Data's own, for answering questions about why he had chosen certain objects, what they meant to him, and how Data could follow his example and work on his humanity.<p>

"It's a miniature cribbage board. It's a private joke between Ariana and me," Geordi replied.

"A joke?" Data turned the little perforated board over in his hands. "Do you not use it to play cribbage?"

"Well, yeah, we did, when we were kids. My mom had this thing about unpowered games – she thought it was good for us to exercise our brains on something besides holo-vids. I guess her great-great-great-grandfather used to take it on family trips."

"It is made of wood – very rare," Data noted.

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I told my sister one day that it was haunted by the spirit of our ancestor – stay with me now," Geordi said in answer to Data's skeptical expression. "And to prove it, I used to sneak into her room while she was asleep and move it. Then I'd tell her it was great-great-great-great-grandfather's ghost that did it."

"I see," Data said uncertainly.

"She knew I was kidding, but it turned into a game. She started hiding it in my room, saying the ghost had done it. Then I'd hide it in her room, and so on, and so on. We'd forget about it for months at a time, and then we'd start up again, and try to outdo each other with clever hiding places – the toe of a shoe, under a mattress, inside a bin of winter clothes. Sometimes, we'd be more obvious. I'd find it in the middle of my plate before dinner. We never talked about it – it was just this running gag. In a way, it was something consistent in a life that was anything but. We moved around so much, it was something that remained the same, no matter how our environment changed."

"I believe I understand now, Geordi. It is a memento of your family."

"Uh-huh. When I left for the Academy, I hid it in her room one last time. When I got to school and unpacked, I found that little board in my suitcase. We were able to pass it back and forth a few more times when she visited, but when I got posted to my first deep space assignment, I kept it. I don't know why – it was technically hers. It sort of makes me feel like I'll see her soon and start messing with her again." Geordi laughed.

"Hm." Data thought it over and replaced the cribbage board on the shelf. "Then, it is proper for some objects to take on significance, because of what they represent."

"Of course, Data. Hey, I think it's almost 1500 – we'd better get to the bridge."

"I will join you shortly." They left Geordi's cabin, the navigator continuing on to the turbolift, while Data went into his own quarters.

He sat down at his workstation and pressed open a narrow drawer. He pulled out several small opaque boxes until he had a sizeable pile. He snapped one open – inside gleamed a gold and white medal, a cross over a star. He pulled it out of its velvet housing and held it on his palm.

Each of the boxes contained a medal; each medal represented a time when he had put his life at stake to aid others. He thought again about fear – in his case, the emotion had never impeded his actions or clouded his judgment. He had often wondered if he had garnered such high honors because his programming disposed him to act bravely, though he had never felt brave. Was it completely fair for him to be so honored, when he was inherently stronger and faster than his humanoid colleagues?

But medals were given for actions above and beyond the call of duty. In each instance, Data had had a choice – to risk annihilation and act, or do nothing and ensure his own safety. In each instance, the choice had been clear to him – when he could act, he would act. And though he did not feel brave or fearful, was there nothing equivalent in choosing his predilection for preserving life over that of self-preservation?

Data reached a decision – small, but to him momentous. He had every reason to show pride in his achievements, and to allow his medals to take on significance. They were objects, and perhaps it was vain to attend to their presentation. But what they represented to him were moments when he knew he had transcended his programming. When he could say for certain that he had been more than a machine. He decided to mount his medals in a clear display case. Whether or not he would put them out for anyone to see was another matter.


	16. Chapter 16

Tasha plopped into a chair in the personal care center. The Bolian barber bustled up to her right away. "Ah, Lt. Yar! You were just here – don't tell me you need a trim already." He threw an apron around her neck.

In reply, Tasha shook her hair forward, the straight, blonde wisps falling past her upper lip.

"Okay, okay, a little off the front. You want highlights?"

Tasha winked. "Naturally."

"Ho ho! Good one. When nature lets you down, technology is there to lift you up." Mot got to work. "I'll bet you were fair as a snowflake when you were a little girl. One of these days, I'm going to take you platinum. Today could be the day…" He held up the scissors and gave her an inquiring look.

"No, nothing fancy. Just lighter and shorter, clip the back, and…"

"Blend, blend, blend. Hey, I know the drill!" Mot's blue fingers were as quick as his patter. "Don't let anyone give you any flak for your short hair. Shows you mean business. And, you know, some men find short hair very sexy. Nothing to get in the way, huh?"

"Mot!" Tasha giggled.

"Ah, come on, don't be so modest. Half the crew is in love with our beautiful security chief. In vain, my dear, in vain. Has eyes for only one thing. How can anyone compete with a machine?"

Tasha blanched and sat forward, blinking rapidly.

"And who can blame you? We're all in love with her – she's the top of the line, the newest, the sleekest, the most breathtaking piece of machinery in the galaxy. She's why we leave home, why we face the unknown – well, her and the people inside. Each of us doing our own little part. Course, your part's not so little. Heck, neither is mine. Someone's gotta keep this crew looking beautiful."

"The Enterprise…" Tasha breathed.

"Yes, the love of our lives, bless her matter/antimatter soul." The clippers went on with a buzz.

Tasha blew out a puff of relief and sank back in her chair.

* * *

><p>The bridge crew had met up for dinner in Ten-Forward. Wesley looked from one officer to another, beaming, the new communicator on his chest shining as brightly as his smile.<p>

Will finally gave in. "So, how's it feel to be on the duty roster, Acting Ensign Crusher?"

"It's a privilege, Commander. Thank you for giving me such an interesting variety of duties." Wesley's speech sounded slightly rehearsed.

"Duties are not given, Mr. Crusher," Data corrected. "You have earned the privilege."

"I was 20 before I got my hands on a real navigation console. You've got me beat by a few years," Will said.

"Not me," said Geordi, "My mom snuck me onto the bridge when she was a first lieutenant. The helmsman even let me steer – well, for about five minutes."

"I was your age when I first flew in a starship," Tasha added. "Fifteen."

"Were you totally excited?" Wesley asked.

"Wes…" Beverly looked pained.

The boy turned from his mother to the security chief in confusion. Tasha gave him a reassuring smile. "The ship made a big impression on me. I knew right away that I wanted to be a part of Starfleet."

"Me too, Lieutenant. When did you first know you wanted to join Starfleet, Cdr. Riker?"

Before Will could answer Wesley's question, an announcement came over the comm. "All senior officers: report to the bridge."

"So much for a day off." Tasha said, pushing back from the table.

"So much for dinner." Geordi tossed down his napkin and got up with the others.

Will clapped a hand on Wesley's shoulder as he passed. "Another time, Ensign Crusher. It's a good story."

Wesley watched the officers stride away, and felt a distinct stab of envy.

* * *

><p>The next day brought Tasha's least favorite aspect of her job – meetings. Managerial work was not her forte. She coped by putting on a persona she hoped fit the bill, calming her demeanor and evening out her voice, a steady mantra of <em>What would Capt. Picard do? What would Capt. Picard do? <em>running through her brain. She summoned all of her limited self-confidence to put on an earnest, professional face, and prayed that no one would see through it to the nervous young woman beneath. Looking at her assistant security chiefs and team leaders, she wondered how she'd managed to advance over men and women so much older and more seasoned than herself. Her last promotion had come as a result of heroics in the field – she'd rescued a group of colonists on Carnel, going on a half-baked hunch that she'd seen enough unexploded mines to get through a field of them with a set of transporter pattern enhancers strapped to her back. She'd been lucky and right, and as if the promotion hadn't been enough shockingly good news, she'd been assigned to the Enterprise not long after. Still, in a way she was faking it to make it. If she didn't feel completely confident about her leadership skills, at least she could act the part.

Her nervous energy had built up to a fidgety high pitch after an hour of sitting and talking. There was still another item on the agenda.

"Lieutenant, I recommend we redraw the team assignments, now that we've been underway for nearly four months."

"Lieutenant, those teams were put together after in-depth examinations of the security personnel files by Counselor Troi, the first officer, and myself," Tasha replied. "Why do they need to change?"

The assistant chief steepled his fingers. "Now that our people have worked together, we can use our judgment to match skills and personality types to make the best configurations. A person is different at work than on paper."

Tasha hesitated. It struck her as a personal criticism. She felt immediately defensive, but stifled the urge to lash out. _What would Picard do? What would Picard do? _ The captain always asked for input from his team, even if he was going to do exactly what he wanted in the end. It made them feel like their voices had been heard, and their contribution mattered. "I'll consider it, Lieutenant. I'd like recommendations from all team leaders in two days. Was there anything else?"

The instinct to fight simmered down. She was able to listen with a clear head.

* * *

><p>The arboretum was a kaleidoscope of colors, from the blooming bushes and trees to the bright clothes of the people who walked among them. Data found the botanist after a thorough search; she blended into the background in a forest green wrap top and an earth brown overall. She was on her knees by a spherical green and pink bush, deadheading dahlias with pruning shears, when she saw the android approach. She got to her feet.<p>

"Hi, Cdr. Data."

"Hello, Ms. Ishikawa. How are you?"

"Fine, and you?"

"I am…fine." Data still had moments when he wished to answer that question in a literal sense, but Geordi had assured him that "fine" was always the appropriate answer.

"I'm so glad you stopped by, Commander. I have something for you." Keiko stepped away to the interior window, warmly lit by grow lights, where a box of flowers and plants rested on a narrow sill. "I've taken some cuttings of plants that are very easy to care for, but look great when they bloom. I thought you might like them in your cabin."

"That is most considerate of you." There was little by way of decoration in Data's quarters. He had heretofore not given the matter thought, but on the Enterprise, he was discovering that humans seemed to value the process of personalizing one's living space. This was true even for his friend Tasha, though her decorative choices so far had been haphazard, and the final effect was somewhat disjointed, and definitely unfinished. "Would it be suitable if I offered the planter to a friend instead?"

"Oh, Commander, I can make up another one. I had so much fun choosing these for you; I'd be happy to do it again." Keiko set off down the grassy path.

"Thank you, Ms. Ishikawa. Perhaps you could describe the proper care of the plants, and any other pertinent information that I should know."

Keiko smiled. Something about Data's formal manner reminded her of being home in Japan, where ritualized customs had defined the culture for centuries. It made her feel at ease with him. "Gladly, Commander. First, I'm going to find some forget-me-nots, those little blue flowers lining the bottom layer. They like a cool, moist, shady environment, so they'll thrive in a box."

Data nodded. His files told him that the genus was Myosotis and the family Boaginaceae, but he did not mention this aloud. Forget-me-not was a far more intriguing name.

* * *

><p>Nighttime brought mixed feelings for Tasha. By 2100 hours, it was getting to be too late to drop in on a friend, but too early to hit the sack. There was always Ten-Forward, but it was easy to get drawn into conversation and wind up skimping on much-needed sleep. She could read, or meditate, or practice yoga, but what she really wanted to do every night was spend time with Data.<p>

Dangerous.

It seemed this internal struggle went on any night she had free. Should she call him or shouldn't she? Was it too much? Did it weaken her, or make her seem clingy? She couldn't have that. After all, she was already the only one with desire, the one who could feel loneliness and need, the one with all of the craving. She didn't want to augment the imbalance by giving in to that need every time.

But she usually did. At some point, her desire to be with him outweighed her desire to appear independent, and she would give in and call. Tonight was no different. "Computer, where is Lt. Cdr. Data?"

"Lt. Cdr. Data is in the corridor on deck eight."

Tasha grinned with pure self-satisfaction. For once, he'd taken the initiative. She was right by the door when it chimed. "Come in."

Data entered with a box full of flowers in his arms. "Hello, Tasha."

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

Hearing the edge in her voice, Data discarded the first replies that his heuristic programs suggested. "It is a gift – a planter for your quarters."

Tasha's face relaxed and she took the rectangular box from him. "Oh, that's nice, Data! You didn't have to go to any trouble for me."

"It was no trouble at all. The botanist had made one for me, and I asked her to make another that I could give as a gift."

Tasha froze in the act of putting the planter on her low table. "Her?"

"The botanist. She thought potted plants would be an attractive addition to my quarters."

Tasha straightened slowly. Her back was to Data, and she took a moment to control her emotions before she turned to him. "How does she know what your quarters look like?"

Data was wearing a puzzled expression. Even though Tasha's reactions to any given stimuli were often atypical, he wondered why they remained so wholly unpredictable. "The schematic for the style of my quarters is not classified – anyone on board, even a civilian, would know what they looked like."

Tasha scrutinized him, her hands on her hips. "Has she seen your cabin?"

"Yes." Data's puzzlement increased.

"What's her name?"

"Keiko Ishikawa."

The next question was out before Tasha could stop herself. "Is she pretty?"

This provided a piece of information that allowed Data to correctly process their interaction through his accumulated files and discern the reason for Tasha's odd reaction. He answered with a question. "Are you dissatisfied with my gift?"

She chewed her bottom lip. "No." Ugh, he was already turning the tables on her, making her out to be the bad guy. She refused to get pinned with it. "Thank you," she said coldly.

They stood and stared at each other in silence, Data waiting patiently, his expression neutral, Tasha growing more agitated by the second. She finally broke the silence. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

Data deflated slightly, a look of defeat on his face. "No."

"Well, I'm going to turn in early." Tasha folded her arms.

"Understood. Goodbye." Data was out the door in seconds.

Tasha sat down on her couch and scowled at the beautiful planter. Whom had she punished by sending him away? She still felt lonely, but now it was compounded by bitterness. It wasn't at all how she'd expected her night to end.


	17. Chapter 17

The monitor on the desk called out to Tasha with a silent, beguiling voice. _No one would know, _it said. _Just type in her name._ Tasha knew that her access to the personnel files of the entire ship's complement was to be used only for official ship's business. It would be unethical to access a file for personal reasons. Amoral. Wrong.

She paced back and forth, cracking her knuckles, trying to fight the impulse. Enough. She would just go to bed and forget about it. Starfleet officers don't get jealous, don't snoop around, and they don't….

She rushed to her desk. "Computer: access personnel file of Keiko Ishikawa."

"Accessing."

The front page appeared, and Tasha's heart sank. Keiko wasn't just pretty – she was beautiful. Kind, dark eyes, a dimpled smile, long shiny hair…and single. "Computer, close file."

Tasha slumped in her chair. She felt much worse now. Data was so naïve. A woman would practically have to throw herself at him to make her intentions known, if she was interested. What if Tasha had a rival? What could she do? Fight for her man, when she refused to commit to being a true couple?

She could just picture Data in a relationship with a woman who smiled and laughed easily, didn't fly off the handle at the least provocation, didn't have a pit of insecurities to cover over. Someone with a normal past, who'd grown up in a happy home – didn't he deserve as much? At the same time, she could picture herself taking down anyone who so much as looked at him twice. Wham! Kick to the throat. It didn't really make sense.

She really, really needed to hit something. A few rounds in the holodeck would take care of that. She wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon anyway.

* * *

><p>The first opportunity to see Keiko for herself came at the lunch break the next day. Tasha headed straight for the arboretum, hoping the botanist hadn't already left. It was the first time the warm, oxygen-rich air didn't immediately bring her a sense of peace. She stalked through the trees and plants, and found her quarry after a long search.<p>

Keiko was staking tiger lilies near a curved wall. The picture hadn't lied – even intent on her work with a line between her eyes, she was beautiful. Her long hair was twisted back from her forehead and secured with an exotic purple and gold comb. Tasha wavered – should she go up and introduce herself? She felt flustered and shy.

A woman and a child approached the young botanist. Her face suddenly lit up with a smile, and she dusted off her hands and warmly greeted the pair. The child handed her something – a drawing – and Keiko took it with an exclamation of delight and swooped down to hug the little girl. Their cheerful chatter and laughter echoed off the walls.

Tasha retreated back down the path. Not only was Keiko beautiful, but _nice_. The security chief let out a huge sigh. Though she was generally too suspicious to be an accurate judge of character, anyone could plainly see that Keiko was sweet and kind. If Tasha were truly Data's friend, wouldn't she choose someone like that for him? Calm, lovely, easy to talk to, not…damaged goods.

She walked out of the arboretum. At least she still had time to eat lunch, even though she'd completely lost her appetite.

* * *

><p>Geordi was finishing up a report when his door chimed that night. It opened to admit Data, who made himself at home. After a few minutes of idle talk, the android piped up with a question. "Geordi, what causes humans to feel jealousy?"<p>

The helmsman knew that something had been on Data's mind – he always came to the point pretty quickly when something was taxing his heuristic programs. This promised to be a quagmire. "Data, let's go from the specific to the general, not the other way around, okay? What happened?"

Data briefly summarized while Geordi pulled at his chin. "Well, my friend, what if Tasha's right?"

Data blinked in puzzlement. "I do not understand."

"What if Keiko _is _interested in you? Would you recognize flirting if you saw it?"

"I am unfamiliar with that term."

Geordi spread his hands. Data was a walking dictionary, but sometimes he needed more information to process contextual application. "Engaging in talk or touching to let someone know that a person has amorous interest."

"Ah." Geordi could practically see the synapses firing while Data worked through the question. "Perhaps not."

"Well, maybe the first thing you should do is find out if Keiko is interested in you, before you dismiss Tasha's reaction."

"But Geordi, it is irrelevant. I have no intention of ending my relationship with Lt. Yar."

Geordi sighed. "Data, we're friends, right? You trust me. Speaking as a friend, maybe you should ask yourself if Tasha is right for you. You're constantly in the doghouse. You could date someone else – someone nicer, with less baggage. It might be better for both of you."

Data examined his friend for signs that his remarks were made in jest. Humor remained persistently elusive to his comprehension. "Geordi, if given the opportunity, would you enter into a romantic relationship with Lt. Yar?"

"In a heartbeat." Data leveled a scrutinizing look at his friend. "Alright, alright, you got me. I'm just playing devil's advocate. But I do think you should make certain that the botanist knows you're not available."

Data ran the scenario through his probability calculations. "I am not certain that I am capable of negotiating the conversation you suggest. The sophistication required to impart that information without damaging my acquaintanceship with Ms. Ishikawa seems beyond my ability."

Geordi put both hands on his friend's shoulders. "Data, you should put more faith in yourself. I think you can do it – just be honest."

Data nodded, but internally, knew that his chances of dealing successfully with the situation were at best 10 to one.

* * *

><p>Keiko dug into the black layer of topsoil with a small spade and sifted through it with her fingers. The added minerals sparkled when the grow lights hit them. She loved to get her hands in, loved to feel and smell things growing, the rich, fertile ground where seeds would take root, over the cold, hard titanium of the true floor far below. She had modified this section of the arboretum to simulate late summer, and she wiped her perspiring forehead with her wrist, trying not to smear dirt on her face. She rocked back on her heels at the sound of a familiar voice behind her.<p>

"Hi, Cdr. Data. Look – I've just cut some summer flowers. What do you think of these lilies?"

He dutifully looked over the orange and black trumpets. "The symmetry and vibrant color are striking – they are ideal specimens, Ms. Ishikawa."

"Thank you! How are your plants doing in your room?"

"They are thriving as expected. It is about that exact subject that I wished to speak to you."

"Oh?"

Data's eyebrows contracted slightly. "I interpreted your gift as a gesture of friendship and nothing more. Was I correct in my assumption?"

Keiko looked at him in confusion. "Of course, Commander. I would be honored to call you a friend, even though we haven't known each other long. I hope it wasn't presumptuous."

"Not at all. I appreciated the gesture. However…" Data stopped and rejected several sentences suggested by his heuristic programs.

Keiko's concern increased. "Commander, I hope I didn't overstep…"

"Not at all, Ms. Ishikawa." Data compared Keiko's facial expression to those in his reference files. There was the remote possibility that her confusion was due to dashed hopes, so he forged on. "My friend, the one you made the second box for, is a…special friend. It is a private matter, and I hope you do not think me rude for alluding to it. I simply wished to clarify…"

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned in Keiko's eyes. "Oh no, Commander. I didn't mean anything by it. Please forgive me for any trouble I may have caused." The exchange reminded her so much of a formal conversation at home, she finished with a little bow.

"No apology necessary. Please accept my thanks for your understanding." Data inclined his head and left.

Keiko smiled to herself. The second officer would've fit right in at home in Japan, where ritual formalities still held sway, as they had for thousands of years. And he had a girlfriend – if that wasn't the cutest thing she'd heard all day…. She'd never considered that the android might be interested in dating. She hardly had time herself, with her workload and all. Still, she filed that piece of information away for the future. Cdr. Data was an unbiased, unflinching judge of character. Keiko may not have been interested in dating for the present, but someday that might change.

* * *

><p>Data pressed the announcement button and waited. Tasha had been acting distant for days, and had been creative with her excuses as to why. Data had at first ascribed it to her probable need to punish him, though such a punishment was ineffectual. Then he had assumed that she needed time to process the situation. He had not had a chance to explain, so he could only guess that she was still laboring under the assumption that the botanist was romantically interested in him. Finally, after another day of silence from Tasha on the bridge, he had determined that he had given her enough space, and resolution would only come about through direct confrontation.<p>

Rather than answering, Tasha appeared at the door. "I said I was busy tonight…" Her eyes slid away from his as she unconvincingly tried to sound nonchalant.

"May I come in? I would like to talk to you," Data replied, undeterred.

She reluctantly stepped aside and allowed him to pass. As soon as the doors closed, Data lifted Tasha's chin and kissed her.

When he pulled away, she looked utterly shocked.

"Words are not always the optimal mode of communication," he explained.

Her brows knit together, and she stepped back into the living area. Data sat beside her on the sofa. "Listen," Tasha said softly. "I've been thinking –"

"Before you inform me of your thoughts, may I say something?" Data asked politely.

Tasha nodded. She was slumped in a posture of defeat, and still had not met his eyes.

"Ms. Ishikawa has no romantic designs on me, nor I on her. Your concern is misplaced."

"Data, I've been thinking that maybe…maybe I'm not right for you. Maybe it's not fair to trap you in this relationship when I don't know where it's going to ultimately go. Maybe you should focus on someone who's better equipped to be in a relationship." She looked up and tried to read his expression. "Maybe Troi was right, and I sought you out because you can't love me, so you can't hurt me. I know how hard you try to be human and understand love, but y'know, I don't understand it either. Maybe I'm just holding you back." She braved a look in his yellow eyes; he regarded her as calmly as usual. "I'm just being honest. I was jealous at first; I admit it, but then I got to thinking, what if you miss your chance for real love because of me? What if you put your time towards being with someone who'd be your girlfriend, or your wife, with no reservations, instead of being with me?"

Tasha's blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She blinked and waited.

Data's response was very soft, almost inaudible. "I do not wish to enter into another relationship. I prefer to be with you." He looked at her with an intensity that was almost alien. "Given the choice between a real relationship with you that exists under certain constraints, and a hypothetical relationship that would follow traditional guidelines, I choose you."

She whispered his name. "I wish you would think clearly about this. I might never open up to you completely. There are things about me that you don't know – that nobody knows – and this might be the best that I can do. This might be –"

"Tasha." Data put one hand on her cheek and turned her to face him. "When I first passed into sentience, the gap between me and the humans I aspired to be like was so wide, I thought I would never bridge it. There were moments when I wished to wipe my memory clean of the difficulties I had experienced and start over. Then I came to realize that the struggle was the essential part. Whether or not I reach my goal is immaterial – the effort has made me grow."

A tear fell from Tasha's blackened lashes. She ignored it, staring into Data's eyes, seeing what she always saw there – a unique being, a man with a soul, and someone whom lately she'd felt like she didn't deserve.

"If you struggle to be candid with me, and to trust me, let it be our struggle. I am willing to take on the challenge." He stroked her jaw. "Are you?"

His last question was so quiet that it seemed to barely leave his lips. She met it there, leaning forward and kissing him, another tear sliding down the side of her nose. She pulled back and nodded mutely.

"I am no counselor, but I would like to believe that I have some small ability to be a positive part of your life, rather than a problem. I will not challenge you unfairly – you have my promise. I want to help you."

_I don't need any help, _Tasha thought automatically, but she didn't doubt Data's sincerity. Aloud, she said nothing, just put her legs over his and laid her head on his shoulder.

After a moment, he put his arms around her, somewhat awkwardly.

Tasha smiled. "You do better when your pleasuring program is running, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well. Run, baby, run."

The change was immediate, though subtle; his movements became more natural. He put one arm under her knees and gathered her close to him, pulling her in for another kiss. She gave out a little sigh and looked at him from under her lashes, then pulled away. "You closed your eyes," she said in surprise.

"You close your eyes," he replied innocently.

"You learned that from me?"

Data nodded.

"I think that's nice. It's nice to know there are some things I can teach you."

Data got to his feet in one supple movement with Tasha in his arms. "There are many things that you can teach me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Next chapter starts The Last Outpost, and after that, Lonely Among Us. That's right – Data's first cosplay as Sherlock Holmes! Think he can get Tasha in the holodeck with him? And since I've interrupted the story, I might as well point out that just below this note is a Review button. Why not take a moment to tell me what you think, if you're reading along? Do it – push the button! The shiny, candy-like button!**


	18. Chapter 18

Deanna wondered if her colleagues truly believed that no one noticed the ups and downs of their relationship. As easy as it had been for Will to spot when Data and Tasha were fighting, the empath could feel that the two were in a particularly positive phase. Data began to hover around Tasha on away missions as if it were his duty to protect her, not the other way around. And the looks Tasha gave him when she thought no one would notice – there were times when they all got on the turbolift and Tasha gave Data a look so full of pride and love, Deanna nearly felt embarrassed to be there. She did her best to ignore it, as it was obvious that they wished to keep their personal life separate from their work. But sometimes, the urge to grab Will's sleeve and point out the besotted couple was almost too strong to resist.

What always stopped her was the fact that besotted was not a word that could realistically describe either person. Tasha was always shielded. There were parts of her mind that she never uncovered, no matter how Deanna probed. Parts of her heart, too. Had Tasha healed enough to open herself to love? It was a question Deanna couldn't answer. And Data . . . the paradox of his professed inability to love and his outwardly loving actions was beyond her. No psychology text could help unravel that conundrum. Deanna knew that the android couldn't feel. Data was the only person onboard who could sneak up on her (though she knew he never did so intentionally). His lack of emotional presence made him nearly two-dimensional to her, almost invisible. But his whole demeanor changed whenever he spoke to Tasha, or went off with her alone. He treated the tough security chief as if she might break. It would be sweet, if it weren't so improbable.

* * *

><p>Geordi stepped off the transporter platform, joking with Will and Tasha as soon as they had fully rematerialized, trying to dispel the tension of a routine diplomatic mission that had suddenly turned volatile. They'd been saved by Deanna's special abilities and her quick reaction. She and Data had remained behind to conclude the meeting. <em>It goes to show that no amount of research can fully prepare you for the field,<em> Geordi thought. As thoroughly as they prepped for any mission, there was always that x-factor, the unknown, unpredictable variable that could turn a mundane visit into a danger zone. This time, he'd accidentally given offense by brushing against a decorative pillar. Who knew that the bipedal feline species they were visiting regarded it as a sign of challenge and dominance? None of the Caitians they knew were like that. The guards had gone for their weapons and only Data's instant restraint of Tasha as she reached for her phaser had kept the situation from exploding.

Tasha took the phrase "got hot" to its literal extreme. At the sight of the aliens raising their weapons, her body temperature had flared. Geordi was sure that her move to draw her own weapon was instinctive – he himself had barely had time to process the situation, let alone react. If Data hadn't moved with a speed that outmatched instinct, they'd all still be in hot water – Deanna's insistence that they meant no harm would never have held up. And then she'd leaned back and bared her neck in a submissive move that Geordi would never have thought up. Finally, she'd shooed off the rest of the away team like they were naughty kittens. The whole thing seemed comical in retrospect.

It was as if Data were constantly aware of Tasha, no matter what else was happening. He'd pinned her hand to her hip and shared a look with her, and without a word spoken, she'd relaxed. Her temperature had cooled back to normal. They were a good team.

Geordi made a crack about catnip that brought out Tasha's little giggle and a clap of laughter from Will. His jokes weren't all that funny – it was more the release of tension and the leftover adrenaline that was making them punchy. Still, Geordi loved hearing Tasha laugh. She was often overly serious at work. He'd give anything to see her really cut loose one day.

It was a treacherous place for his mind to wander. He dropped behind the others in the narrow corridor, making way for two crewmembers to pass, and let his visual receptors focus briefly on Tasha's shapely caboose. There was no harm in just looking, was there? The harm only came when he set his imagination free. One of his deep-seated, simple wishes was to see her with naked eyes. He'd admitted as much to her on that day when the Tsiolkovsky virus made him drop his guard. And he wasn't the only one; Data would never say, but it wasn't hard to picture how and when the unlikely couple had gotten together. The severity in Tasha's voice when she told Data it never happened, loud enough for anyone on the bridge to hear. Whatever hadn't happened was still not happening, and showed no signs of ever ceasing to not happen. That arresting move, Data's hand over hers against her hip . . . Geordi could just imagine the crack across the face he'd gotten if he tried to touch Tasha below the belt.

He realized he'd lagged far behind the others. Treacherous ground. It was no use letting his mind wander in that direction, or thinking about what might have been. Tasha was his friend; Data was his best friend, and as sweet a fantasy as it was to imagine what she might look like up close, those thoughts could only lead to frustration.

Geordi hurried to catch up and joined Will and Tasha in the turbolift.

* * *

><p>The alert that flashed on the tactical console was the most interesting news that Tasha had seen in days. "Captain, I'm getting a report of an unauthorized entry into Federation space."<p>

"Confirmed, Captain," Worf added from mission ops. "An intruder is approaching the unmanned station on Gamma Tauri IV."

"What make of ship, Lt. Yar?" Picard asked, flipping open his own console.

"Not certain yet, sir. Linking with the transmission from the automatic scanner."

It was a team effort. A junior command officer came onto the bridge and joined the science officer at the aft stations.

"Lt. La Forge, how far are we from that system?"

"We can cover the distance in two hours, Captain, provided our intruder sticks around."

"Link established, sir," Tasha reported. She waited for the codes to unscramble. "The design is . . ." _Couldn't be. Now _this_ was interesting news._ "It's a Ferengi ship, sir."

"Ferengi." Picard shared an impressed look with Riker. "Well, now."

"Captain!" Tasha barked and immediately reined in her voice. "They appear to be removing something from the station. The alarms are going crazy."

"It appears to be of significant size," Data added. "They seem to be removing an energy converter from the northwest quadrant of the station."

"The signal's going choppy – trying to compensate," Tasha said.

"Whoever the Ferengi are, they're not very bright," Geordi mused.

"What makes you say that?" asked Will.

"They just stole a piece of Federation equipment with a homing device. Tracking their flight path now," the helmsman replied.

"Got the feed synced, Captain. Confirmed – one T-9 energy converter stolen," Tasha reported.

Picard sat up in his chair and squared his jaw. "We'll see about that. Lt. La Forge, lay in an intercept course."

"Aye, sir."

Tasha gave the underside of her console a punch and threw an excited look back at Worf before composing her face into professional detachment once more. She loved it when they got to play space cops.


	19. Chapter 19

"Hello, stranger."

Geordi's witticisms were the only light notes in the exchange between the bridge officers assessing and speculating on the Ferengi ship, which had suddenly dropped out of warp in the Delphi Ardu system. The atmosphere on the bridge was cool, professional, even when the Ferengi starship fired on them. Tasha readied weapons and waited for the captain's order to return fire. All of a sudden, the situation turned even more dangerous; she couldn't keep the tension out of her voice as the Enterprise was disabled by an unseen attack. Weapons went offline. Worf, at her side at tactical, was equally consternated. The great ship hung defenseless in space, her power somehow draining away.

Data was unperturbed by the negative turn of events. He rattled off what few facts existed on Ferengi culture as if they were all in a lecture hall, not paralyzed in outer space, nose to nose with a hostile ship that was most likely waiting until their power had drained sufficiently to fail the shields and leave the Enterprise as defensible as a paper boat. It irked Tasha. Data's suggestion that the Ferengi might outgun them irked her more. Damn it, she was sitting on the most advanced arsenal in the Federation fleet and couldn't fire one photon torpedo unless she pushed it out of the torpedo bay herself. It was maddening.

Riker and La Forge returned from engineering with a plan that gave them all a glimmer of hope. The captain's French expletive echoed the thoughts of the whole bridge crew when their push to break free of the draining force failed.

Picard called them to the lounge to discuss what options remained. He shot down Tasha's call for a firefight, Worf's support going unheeded. Deanna's call for more talk was met with skepticism, but as they seemed out of ideas, it remained the only option Picard would consider. He dismissed the staff, and Tasha retook her station, bristling under the captain's rejection. The Ferengi had fired on them twice. They were holding the Enterprise helpless, scanning the ship's computer – what more evidence of a threat did he require? Tasha didn't want to start a war, but she'd be damned if she would turn over on her back for some unknown alien belligerents.

Thus, she was shocked to the core when the captain offered their surrender. Data took over communication duties while Tasha waited with weapons at the ready. Worf's disgust at the captain's offer weighed on her – she was inclined to side with her Klingon friend. What was the captain thinking? The seconds dragged by. Shields would only hold for a couple minutes more.

"Suggest first strike, sir. Our shields now only have 63 seconds of power left before lowering."

Even with Worf and Will backing her, the captain rejected her advice again. Tasha hated to give up without a fight.

The stalemate was broken by the gravelly voice of Daimon Taar. In an instant, the situation changed – the Ferengi ship was trapped, too. Tasha was stunned.

Discussion was heated on the bridge. Data stayed aloof, searching the library computer, until he declared that he had something to show them. At his suggestion, the captain, first officer and helmsman left for the observation lounge.

Tasha turned to Worf, her eyes shining.

"I still think we should have fired on them," Worf rumbled.

"They're trapped, too! We would've started an intergalactic incident without cause."

"They fired on us first."

Tasha let out a breath. Worf wasn't feeling any of her remorse. She scrolled through the sensor readings as the probe Geordi had launched began to return information. The image was arresting – two massive beams of power emanated from the planet, holding both ships in separate force fields. Tasha had never seen any power source capable of that much output. It was leeching energy from every system on every deck. Soon they wouldn't be able to sustain life support. This was worse than surrender – if winding up a Ferengi hostage had been the fate she was contemplating before, freezing and suffocating on the bridge was no better. She hailed the lounge on the comm. The captain needed to see this.

The four senior officers returned, and Riker stopped at Tasha's station. "Standby for away team duty, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir." That was a step up. At least she'd get a chance to do something. Riker requested Worf for the team – it was extra reassurance. The image of the Ferengi captain – daimon – that filled the viewscreen didn't exactly inspire confidence.

They hit the turbolift and made their way quickly to the main transporter room, Data rattling off the probabilities against their success. Tasha sped ahead, wishing he would just shut up for once, willing her breath to even out and her heart to stop leaping in her chest. There was not a moment to lose – the Enterprise had only hours of life support left at the current rate of power loss.

Riker egged Data on as they took their positions on the transport pad. "Anything else?"

"Due to this force field, there is currently no way to beam us back, sir."

"Oh, ya had to ask," Geordi chimed in.

"Understood! Energize," Riker ordered.

Tasha rematerialized alone in a storm-wracked, misty landscape and immediately lost her footing, landing hard on her tailbone and sliding down a sandy slope. She flung her hands out wildly for anything to hold on to. A desiccated tree branch gave way as she grasped it – she was falling faster with nothing to break her descent. She tasted grit; her eyes were blinded by dust. The ground suddenly angled up and she threw arms and legs around some kind of crystalline outcropping. Her fall had dislodged several rocks – she heard them go rattling on and then the sound disappeared into nothingness. She looked around as best she could without releasing her full body stranglehold on the rock formation. She was at the edge of a sheer cliff face; her drop down had covered a slope that led straight to it. She couldn't see the bottom of the chasm beneath. She took a deep breath and screamed from her gut, "Data!"

The transporters should never have put her down on an angled surface. It must have been a malfunction – some kind of interference from the force field. Where were the others? What if they'd materialized above the surface of the planet and were lying dead in that chasm? Panic gripped her. "Data!" she screamed again.

No answer. A sound from behind drew her attention – cracking. The crystal spur was shifting under her weight. She looked back – it jutted up from the rock, and she could see fissures forming at the base. "No," she breathed. She began to inch backwards, hugging the smooth crystal projections for all she was worth, closing in on the steep slope that had brought her there. The fissures widened.

"Commander! Worf!" If she fell, that was the end, not just for her, but the Enterprise as well. More than a thousand lives depended on her, waiting to be released from whatever held them captive. They would die up there in space, and she would die alone on this lifeless planet.

No way. "Geordi! Can anyone hear me?" She could keep inching back, and hope that her slow, steady motion would stop the crystals from breaking away, or she could move fast, and try to race gravity.

The pop of another fissure made up her mind. She loosened her grip on the jutting crystals and slid straight down to the slope, the base tearing open at the impact. She flailed for a foothold in the side of the cliff as one of the thin crystal formations broke away from the underside and crashed down the cliff. There was almost nothing to hold on to – the trees looked lightning-blasted and petrified. Tasha grabbed a twisted root – it held her weight. With an ear-splitting crack, the crystal outcropping broke away from the cliff wall, bouncing and crashing down the chasm below. Dust rose and mixed with mist pouring from above.

Tasha coughed and squinted her eyes against the rising cloud. When the last vibrations stilled, she looked up the steep incline. It wasn't impossible. She was silently grateful for her rock climbing experience. She set off on the ascent, scanning the misty face for footholds and handholds. Thunder and lightning boomed under the rolling clouds above.

The path leveled off after several grueling minutes. She was able to stand upright and survey the drop she'd just climbed. The distance was shorter than she would've thought. The plateau widened out to her left, and she took out her tricorder to orient herself. The screen was blank – not a shred of power. "Useless," she said aloud. She tapped her communicator. "Yar to Enterprise." Nothing. Just as Data had predicted.

She explored what she could of the area. There was the sloping path on one side and a sheer drop on two others. She feared for her friends. The ground was thick with sand – she wondered if it would give way at the edges. The last side was a graduated drop-off – steep shelves that were partially obscured in the mist. Far below, she caught a glimpse of red and black and a large, dark head . . .

"Worf!" He was motionless. _Let him be alive . . . _She could get to him, but not directly, not unless she was a bird. She'd have to find another way – keep going up and hope for another path down.

"I'm coming, Worf!" If he were conscious, he would hear her. She hoped. She hurried back to the sloping path, wedging herself onto a narrow ledge like a mountain goat, scrabbling with her hands for aid. Time passed slowly – despite her fitness, her lungs were burning, and the start of a killer headache was throbbing in her temples. The crashing thunder didn't help. _It could be the altitude, _she thought. She had no idea how high up she was. And thirst was like sand in her throat. She reached another plateau, grateful to give her body a rest. She explored the flat area and found what she'd been hoping for – a winding path down the opposite side, hidden by the shelves of rock below. She started down, bracing against the steep incline, grabbing hold of what she could for safety.

Her muscles were aching by the time she reached the first of the graduated shelves. She could see Worf more clearly now, though he was still far away, facedown in the sand below. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. She was just about to shout his name when a flicker of motion caught her eyes. She crouched down and retreated, instinct kicking in. A Ferengi emerged from the mist: short, bulgy, carrying some kind of coiled device. He was creeping closer to Worf. They were far out of range of the phaser hidden in her uniform. Tasha's fists curled at her sides.

The Ferengi was joined by two others. She heard snatches of a heated conversation, and then two of them grabbed Worf under the arms and began to drag him away.

_No! _Tasha bit down hard to stop herself from shouting. She had to find a way down, fast. Too many lives were at stake.


	20. Chapter 20

As she watched the Ferengi landing party drag Worf away, his legs trailing in the sand, Tasha's heart sank like a stone. Joint exploration, the captain said. Cooperation, he said. What the captain needed was a healthy dose of his security chief's distrust. If she'd had her way, she would've blown the backstabbing bastards out of the sky.

She struggled to get a hold of her emotions. They were dragging Worf, so that meant there was a path away from the rock ledge where he'd fallen. If she could get down there, she could follow them. She wished for some rope, bolts, picks – anything to get her over the shelf. They relied on the transporter for everything; in any normal situation, she could've gotten what she needed in an instant. This scenario was far from normal.

She got flat on her belly and crawled right to the edge. Distances were deceptive in the swirling mist. The next shelf was maybe five meters down, maybe more. She could try to jump, risk breaking a leg or worse. She didn't really see any other options. It would be like gymnastics – just keep the eyes on the target and stick the landing.

She reversed herself to face away from the ledge and let her ankles dangle over the edge. She pushed her torso forward, sand scraping her palms, and got her legs over the ledge. She felt cold sweat trickle down her chest. Her fingers fondled the rock for handholds, and she prepared to take her full body weight in her arms. A deep breath and she shoved off the ledge, looking over one shoulder to the rock shelf below, dangling in space for a brief terrifying moment. Eyes open, she let go. Tasha bent her knees and rolled to absorb the impact – there was scrub and sand, but that hardly spared her. She sat up with a grunt and felt her arms and legs for fractures. Everything was sound – she'd be purple all over, but she was in one piece.

She got to her feet. A steep path led down to the lower shelves, a spare half meter jutting out from the rock face. She set her feet on it and hugged the jagged wall like a lover, sliding along bit by bit. She rested on each flat shelf, gathering her strength to tackle the next descent. The thought of Worf's unmoving body dragged by the feral-looking Ferengi spurred her on. They'd never have gotten the drop on him if he hadn't been hurt.

Tasha was grimy and shaking with exhaustion when she finally reached the shelf that bore the trail. They had a good head start on her, but they'd left tracks two meters wide. She felt a surge of renewed vigor and broke into a run, negotiating the uneven ground as best she could. She slowed after a time at the sound of voices. She had caught up to them – no wonder. They were burdened with a body, and she was moving fast. The rocks still obscured the sight of them, but she could hear them between the crashes of thunder. They seemed to be arguing over who would keep carrying the Klingon. She stayed back behind the rocks and pulled out her phaser, thumbing the setting to medium stun. She wanted them down for a nice long nap when she caught them. A series of lightning bolts turned the sky livid – the crashes of thunder were deafening. When it ended, she heard nothing – she hurried ahead to pick up the trail once more.

She rounded a corner, expecting to burst in on them, but found nothing but more stunted trees and gray crystals jutting up from the sand like overgrown salt licks. The wind must've carried the sound back – made them seem closer than they were.

Voices reached her again; this time, she could swear she heard Riker's in the mix. _Thank goodness he's alive._ She was close now, for sure. She broke into a run, her phaser ready in her hand. Another devastating series of thunderclaps filled the electrified air. When it ceased, the sound of shouting and scuffling reached her ears, and she could swear she heard Worf yell, "Pygmy cretins!" _Then he's up, _she thought, _he's okay._

But not for long. A guttural voice yelled, "Kill them!" just as Tasha skirted the last crystalline projections.

"No!" She had them in her sights, phaser raised. The whole team was there – she registered it without taking her eyes off the three targets, and hopped down from the last low ledge.

The Ferengi broke off the attack and regrouped to face the new adversary.

"Good. You've heard of phasers." She let a bit of arrogance enter her voice. Data was gathering up weapons – he tossed them to the rest of the team as Tasha herded the Ferengi together. "Now over there," she ordered brusquely.

The stumpy aliens were open-mouthed with shock. "Is this a female?" one ventured.

Worf and Will moved to flank Tasha. Her mouth was a hard line; she cautioned them with a one-handed gesture.

"A female hew-mon, Letek?"

As if the Ferengi could sink any lower in her opinion, they began to taunt her. Sore losers. Still, she wasn't completely immune. Several choice retorts came to mind and stopped just short of her mouth. This female human had just single-handedly turned the tables on them. They could say what they wanted – she'd still handed their asses to them.

It wasn't enough – the Ferengi began to fidget and feint at them, and they were still armed. "Hold it right there!" Tasha shouted. "Stop. Stop!"

"Phasers on stun," Riker ordered.

"Already set." Tasha fired first. The streak of energy flew wide of the capering Ferengi, zinging to the crystalline projections behind them. Worf fired and got the same result. It broke her concentration. "What's going on?"

The Ferengi shared looks of triumph. One of them leapt to higher ground and powered on his laser whip with a smirk of relish – the blue beam curled back to the crystals in a sizzling lasso. "What is this?" They dropped their aggressive posture and looked around in wonder.

Data took in the scene with calm curiosity. "I believe we can deduce that these crystalline tree shapes are actually energy collectors."

Tasha locked eyes with him – she was out of her depth again, left with useless weapons and an indefensible position. She put away her phaser.

They quickly debated – Geordi insisted that the whole planet was a power collector. It made sense. A generator the size of a planet could conceivably hold the two ships at bay. And then, as if that discovery hadn't been enough, a cloud of blue-white energy coalesced and came to life before their eyes, swirling about them like something from a dream. Or a nightmare. The Ferengi cowered and covered their ears.

The energy came together to form a giant, indistinct face. It was too much – Tasha had never seen anything like it in her life.

"Be you barbarians?" it demanded. "Speak!"

Time stretched out, just like a dream. It couldn't be real, but it was happening.

"You have awakened Portal Six-Three. Do you petition to enter the empire?"

It was alive and real, whatever it was. The guardian of the Tkon empire showed delight at taking a bipedal form. Alive and mutable, he stood before them as an elderly humanoid. It was for this that they explored the galaxy – to encounter new worlds and unknown technologies so advanced, they seemed like magic.

Riker stepped forward and took charge, Data and Geordi on his heels. Tasha and Worf kept the Ferengi in sight. Things were going fine until the stunted aliens stepped forward and offered to kill the Federation team in exchange for the release of their ship. Joint exploration! Tasha wouldn't trust the deceitful runts in a joint anything. Riker kept his composure as the Ferengi tried to discredit his team. Tasha was resolutely silent, holding back her indignation, until they got personal. The three Ferengi approached her and she was instantly on her guard. With Worf beside her and Data circling to their rear, she had nothing to fear. Still, one of them dared to try to touch her.

"Paws off, Ferengi!" She twisted the arm of the one with the gall. Data came closer, ready to join in. If they threatened her again . . .

"Submit!" the tallest of the aliens cried, taking up an attack posture and baring his crooked teeth.

Tasha lashed out an abortive kick. "Just try it, shorty!"

"At ease, Lieutenant!" Riker ordered.

Data and Tasha gave him an identical look of disapproval. _Seriously – they're asking for it! _ She wanted so badly to take the posturing little chauvinists down another peg. Will directed a baleful look at both of his officers and turned back to Portal.

The hunched-up old man denounced them all as barbarians. Will stood stoic at Portal's challenge, but Worf finally broke his silence as Portal grew more threatening. "No! For battle, come to me!"

"No!" Will shouted. "That's an order."

Portal was armed. It was only a spear, but only a spear could still kill the commander, whom Portal called by name. Riker was steadfast at the showy attack, motionless even when Portal aimed the blade straight at his head.

He passed the test. Will shared a look with Tasha and Worf as the mystical Portal became calm. The hoary-haired man waved a hand and returned power to the Enterprise like a magician. He walked off with Will, leaving the others to marvel.

Tasha turned to Worf. "That's it then?"

He was as stunned as she. Data and Geordi joined them and the four shared a moment – the crisis had passed, but the relief still wasn't quite there.

"Can you believe it?"

"I'll believe it when we're back home," Geordi answered.

The little Ferengi burst through their ranks and followed Riker and Portal, jumping around them like overexcited monkeys.

"I am not impressed," said Worf.

"Nor I. Their behavior was quite . . . unsavory," added Data.

Portal walked away into the mist, and between one lightning crash and another, disappeared.

"I take it back. I don't believe it," Geordi amended.

There was still work to be done – the T-9 converter to be retrieved, and a report to Daimon Taar about his landing team's betrayal. The realization that they'd gone several hours without food or water hit Tasha like a sudden change in gravity. As if in tandem, Geordi slumped and sat down on the ground.

"Whoa. Don't feel so hot."

Tasha was reluctant to leave the first officer alone, but her legs had turned to jelly. "Commander – permission to return to the ship?"

Will looked over his team, the two humans weary, Worf and Data dirty but stalwart. "Granted. Mr. Data, you're with me."

"Yar to Enterprise."

"Picard."

His voice on the comm. was like the herald of angels. "Captain, confirm that power has been restored."

"Confirmed, Lieutenant. And just in time."

"First and second officers are still negotiating with the Ferengi, sir. La Forge, Worf and I should get checked out by medical – we saw a little action on the planet."

"Standby to beam aboard."

The sight of the transporter pad was never more welcoming. Beverly was waiting with a med kit. She scanned them one by one, and handed over two sealed bubbles to Geordi and Tasha. "Gel packs, stat. Get these inside you and let's see if we can't balance your fluids and electrolytes."

The two officers quickly obeyed, tearing the plastic seals with their teeth in their hurry. All three were dirty and disheveled, the adrenaline aftermath leaving them drained.

"And you, Mr. Worf, show signs of mild concussion."

"It is nothing, doctor. The Klingon skull is hard."

Beverly gave him a dry smile. "You don't say."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Words from _The Last Outpost _written by Herbert Wright. I never believed that the Ferengi knocked Worf out. I mean, c'mon. As much as Roddenberry liked to have everyone and his grandpa beat up on Worf in the first season, three Ferengi winning versus one Klingon? Un-freaking-likely.**


	21. Chapter 21

After reporting to the captain, Tasha begged off dinner with the bridge crew. She wanted nothing more than to rest in her quarters and get the nightmare landscape out of her head. Even after a thorough sonic shower with verbena and eucalyptus oils, the scent of the static-charged dust of Delphi Ardu VI still clung to her nostrils.

The sound of the door chime jarred her. "Come in." There were only two or three people whose company she thought she could tolerate, but Worf was supposed to go back to sickbay, and Cdr. Riker had a report to complete. She was relieved when the doors opened to the first person she hoped to see.

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not, Data."

He surprised her by embracing her without preamble. It was what she needed – she hugged him back hard, hiding her face in his neck. She pulled away after a long minute. "That was a close one. Did you read the medical report?"

"Affirmative. Air quality and temperature critical on decks one through nine. They were minutes from death."

"Too close." Data hadn't fully released her, and Tasha buried her face in him again, holding him tight once more. She tightened her embrace, squeezed him tighter, tighter, with all her strength, knowing he could take it, needing to feel the solidity of his frame. He let her. She finally let go and wearily flopped down on the couch. "If I weren't so exhausted, I could go for a few rounds in the holodeck. Those lying, thieving ingrates!" She held her head in her hands. Data sat down beside her. "We save their lives and their ship, and get no thank you, no apology. We could've left them there, could've let Portal destroy them." He fixed her with a look. "I know, I know, of course we wouldn't, we couldn't, but it was tempting."

"Cdr. Riker showed dispassionate fortitude throughout the ordeal. It is the reason we were spared."

"Scary, right? If I were in charge, I would've failed the test and we'd all be dead, annihilated by a people that died out 600,000 years ago."

As she talked, Data pulled a Chinese finger puzzle from an inner pocket and began to play with it.

"It's kind of ironic – Portal was the last guardian of his dead civilization, a relic of a people gone extinct before humans walked upright on Earth. All that power, that incredible technology, and they couldn't save themselves."

Data had both index fingers in either end of the parti-colored toy. Tasha made a sound of annoyance. "Why are you still playing with that thing? You know you could break free if you wanted to."

Data fixed his neutral gaze on her, and with a quick, violent motion, tore the little plastic tube in two, scattering shiny fragments over his lap and making Tasha jump. He almost never made displays of his inhuman strength. "Of course. But that would defeat the purpose, would it not?" Data pushed and pulled off the remnants of the finger puzzle and fished another from his pocket. "I did not have a childhood, and so never played with toys. I am intrigued by the concept of play and its role in human development. If I am to play with a child's toy, I must approach the puzzle as a child would."

Tasha watched him fiddle with the pink and green cylinder. "I didn't have much of a childhood, either. There was no time for toys or play. Only for survival."

Data's look was sympathetic, though not pitying. He handed her the toy with the tiniest of half-smiles.

She popped it on one finger and began to stretch and worry it. "You could wind up like Portal, Data. You'll still be alive long after we're all gone. You might outlive the Federation. Or the whole human race."

"If a strategically located star went supernova as happened to the Tkon Empire, I would not survive."

"But that might not happen for a million years. All of us will be long gone. Do you ever think about that?"

Data's expression of loneliness was so genuine; Tasha's heart ached for him. "Yes. But that is an unknown variable in an unforeseeable future. We have this moment in time. There is this night. That is certain."

Tasha squashed the puzzle down, took it off her finger and threw it on the floor. "That's what I think. Life is short. Best to live in the moment. I had some bad moments on Delphi Ardu VI. Thought I'd lost you all."

"Your timely intervention saved us."

"And you had my back. Those bigoted half-pint clowns . . ."

"They seemed to have a problem with your gender. Their thinking was quite archaic."

"Undress _me._ I wish they would've tried. I'd've made them wish they were never born."

Data showed no surprise at her ferocity. "They would not have touched you. I would not have let them. I will protect you, even from indignity."

Tasha gave him a tight smile. "I know. God, I don't want to think about it. I can still hear the thunder in my ears. Honestly, I'm still on edge."

He gave her a speculative look, a familiar one. "Is there any way I can help you relax?"

Her eyes crinkled with humor. "Who's trying to undress me now?"

"It has helped you relax in the past."

She still had a lot of fight in her. She felt like fighting him. "I'm too tense. It was too much today. I'd rather hit something."

Data looked torn between offering himself as a punching bag and appearing wounded.

"No offense. I'm just tired. And angry. Don't…" She put up her hands as he moved to touch her. "Don't treat me like I don't know what I want."

That was exactly how she felt, but she hated that he perceived it so readily. A few minutes before, she couldn't hold him close enough. Now she wanted to push him away. If she could just get the sound of thunder out of her mind…

"Computer, play some music."

"Specify type of music."

"Something soothing. Trance-y. With a singer."

They both listened to the selection that came over the speakers at a low volume. It gave Tasha something to focus on besides the ringing in her ears. When the singer entered after a long electronic instrumental introduction, the voice seemed to speak directly to the two silent officers.

_This girl I know needs some shelter, she don't believe anyone can help her…_

"Do you think the computer listens in on our conversation?" Tasha asked quietly.

Data waited to see if her question was rhetorical; she didn't seem to expect an answer. "If it is best to live in the moment, perhaps you could decide how you wish this moment to be. I will leave if you ask."

Despite the too-personal words, the music was soothing. Tasha listened and considered.

_You can't change the way she feels, but you could put your arms around her…_

"I don't want you to go."

"Then I will stay."

She nodded, a knot of tension still coiled in her stomach. Data waited, watching her for a sign that she might lower her defenses. He had a clear image in his memory cells: the Ferengi stalking close to Tasha, evoking a defensive response in him as strong and irresistible as his self-preservation routine.

_I stand in front of you, I'll take the force of the blow…protection…_

"I mean, it's plausible – the computer responds to voice commands and has to interpret orders. Maybe she's listening to us all the time."

Data raised an eyebrow. "She?"

"She has a woman's voice," Tasha said sheepishly. "Anyway, I think I like this song. It has a nice feel. It's . . ." She broke off and gave Data a look he recognized. "It's kinda sexy." She crept closer to him, the knot unraveling as a different feeling took its place. "Like you said, tonight's the only thing that's certain. Tomorrow we could be risking our lives again. Tomorrow might never come – we could warp to the edge of a black hole and disappear forever."

"Tomorrow we will be traveling to Danula II for shore leave," Data said simply.

Tasha smiled at him. "Computer, dim lights."

"Tonight, we are returning the stolen T-9 converter to Gamma Tauri IV."

"Anything else?"

In the low light, Tasha's blue eyes looked almost black. Data tried something less prosaic. "Tonight, we are here together."

"You and me?" She took his hand and twined their fingers together.

He leaned close and kissed her – he thought it safe to try – and she responded, sighing against him, relaxing and kissing him back. She was warm and her lips felt soft. The moment was a good one, better than seeing Portal come to life from an amorphous cloud of energy, better than witnessing firsthand the might of a planet that could act as an immense generator. A smaller moment, insignificant to the grand scheme of the universe perhaps, but the fact that he could evoke real feeling from her was always a marvel. She sighed and opened to him – he could taste her; if he wanted, he could analyze the chemical composition of her saliva, but he did not. It was far more interesting to feel her arms go around him, the brush of her lashes on his cheek, the push of her tongue against his. She ran her hands over him, just as she would a human, as if there were muscle and sinew under his skin, not positronic systems and fluidic matrices anchored to a duranium chassis. If she felt the difference, she never seemed to care.

She broke away and nuzzled his smooth cheek. "Don't listen, computer."

"Restate your request."

"Data, I . . ." She stopped and looked in his eyes, yellow with bits of blue and beige, searching hers in the dark. She wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck like a plug in a drain. "You know I . . . you know I do, don't you?"

He looked baffled. "I know you do what?"

Her brows contracted. She'd faced a mountain climb with no equipment and three armed Ferengi with less fear. "I . . ." It was too hard. She still couldn't break down the walls she'd built for protection. "Don't make me say it. I'd rather just show you." She rose and took his hand.

Comprehension struck him. He could no more say the disquieting phrase than she could. He followed her to the bedroom, the music still lazily spooling out from the speakers.

_You're a girl and I'm a boy…sometimes you look so small, need some shelter…_

She clutched at him as the doors whooshed shut behind them. "You know I do, don't you?"

He held her close and she wrapped her arms around him as if she never meant to let go. "I suppose I do."

"You suppose?" she said into his shoulder.

He rested his head on hers. "Yes. I know."

**A/N: Protection – lyrics/music by Massive Attack. Satisfactory explanation for Data's being confounded by the Chinese finger puzzle? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reviews need not have constructive criticism. Any response to what you've read is welcome, and discussion helps me add depth to the story. I've got plenty of ideas of my own, but fan fiction is so much fun when there's a little collaboration. Go on, push the Review button! Do it, and I just might write another missing scene for all of you (us) prurient Data-philes.**


	22. Chapter 22

Data had been especially gentle, even though a death-defying experience tended to make Tasha more vehemently demonstrative. She seemed especially vulnerable, whether from the recent danger or her struggle to express her feelings to him, he did not know.

He put a kiss in her hair. She stirred and held him tighter, her cheek against his chest. "Data, what were you thinking when Portal appeared out of nowhere?"

He found the file and replayed it. "'Curious'," he replied.

"That's it, right? You weren't scared."

"I am never –"

"I wish I could be like you, and never feel frightened."

"Tasha, consider what you are saying. It is true that I never feel fear, but it is also true that I never feel joy. Or love. Or sadness. Or happiness. Or . . . anything."

She turned her face up to him. "I'd rather be like you."

"That seems improbable."

"It's true. Maybe if I didn't feel scared, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to attack. Data, if the four of you had been seriously hurt, and our fate was in my hands, we'd all be dead – every person on this ship."

So that was the cause for her troubled expression; she was still contemplating their experience on Delphi Ardu IV. "That is not necessarily true. I would likely have survived."

She snorted. "How comforting."

"The Ferengi energy weapons did not have enough of a charge to do more than disable me temporarily. In your hypothetical scenario, you would not have stood alone. I would have been by your side.'

Tasha instantly regretted her sarcastic remark – that _was _comforting.

"And I believe that Portal was seeking evidence of civilized behavior in us as defined by the Tkon. He found it in Cdr. Riker's own mind, or in the ship's memory logs, and tested us by our own benchmarks."

"I guess that's true."

"Portal's test was specific to Cdr. Riker's mindset and abilities. If he had tested you, he most likely would have searched your files and designed a test specifically for you."

"And what would he have found if he'd searched my file? I insisted that we attack. The captain's foresight spared us from that mistake. I have a track record of choosing the most aggressive option. Wouldn't Portal have condemned me as a barbarian, and in doing so, condemned us all?"

"There is no way to determine the veracity of that conjecture."

"But it's possible." Tasha turned away and lay on her back. "My number one priority is the safety of the crew and the ship. I might have failed."

"I have found failure to be an excellent motivator, and a useful learning tool. Without failure, there is no growth."

"You're missing the point. My failure could have killed us all." Tasha sat up with a jerk, pulling the blanket to her chin.

Data tried a mollifying tone. "We did not fail. We succeeded."

"I want to do better. It's not enough to make it by the skin of our teeth. If I can't keep everyone safe, I'm not doing my job."

Data observed that she was shaking. He had seen this in humans before – a delayed reaction to trauma. He put his arms around her from behind, and she turned and hugged him fiercely. Her shaking grew more violent. He soon realized that she was weeping. He did not note it aloud, but waited silently for the episode to pass.

She eventually grew calm and pulled away, wiping her eyes and nose. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Do not apologize."

"You're right, of course. We're here safe, and that's all that matters."

Data tilted his head. "Did you just admit that I was right?"

Tasha smiled through her tears. "Don't get used to it."

* * *

><p>The sound of her feet hitting the treadmill in rhythm was hypnotic. It was early, and the gym was nearly empty. Tasha's combadge chirped, and Deanna's exotically accented voice called for her. "Troi to Lt. Yar."<p>

Tasha grabbed the hand supports and jumped to straddle the swiftly moving band. She'd been running flat out at her fastest speed; it took a moment for her to catch her breath. "Yar here."

"Would you mind if we moved our meeting back to 1700? I have some last minute appointments I'd like to fit in."

Tasha could only imagine. Even the most adventuresome civilian must have been shaken by their near-death experience. She'd been pretty shaken up herself, and hadn't realized it until she'd found herself crying in Data's arms the night before. How someone bereft of emotions could provoke such strong reactions in her was a mystery. "Of course, Troi. Our meeting can wait." And who's to say it was the civilians? No amount of experience and training, even Starfleet training, could prepare a person for the cold hand of death in space laying icy fingers around the neck, only to be snatched away at the last moment by the actions of five people. It was a tremendous responsibility, ensuring the safety of the ship. It was more important to her than her own life.

"Thanks, Tasha. Troi out."

* * *

><p>The topic of the day on the bridge and throughout the ship was shore leave. Danula III was a modern Federation world – so modern that they could choose to stay at a rustic woodland campground, if they wished.<p>

"Explain to me why anyone would want to pretend to be lost in the woods without power or modern conveniences?" Tasha asked belligerently.

"To get away from it all. To feel one with nature, to slow down and just be," Will replied.

"Doesn't sound appealing."

"You unplug and recharge," Geordi added. "Or you rough it to try your wits against the wilderness. It's exhilarating."

"Hmph." Tasha was unconvinced. "Give me a hotel any day. Roughing it is for people who never had to do it for real."

"The senior staff will have rooms at a seaside resort," Data assured her, "with all the amenities, and a kitchen and chef on premises."

"Sounds splendid," said the captain. "Fresh food will be a welcome luxury. But there is something to be said for sleeping under the stars, Lieutenant. I must say, a good deal of my interest in archaeology comes from a love for getting my hands dirty."

"I sleep under the stars every night," Tasha grumbled. "In my room. In a bed."

"Klingons give no thought to comfort," Worf put in. "It does not matter where we stay."

"Oh, no?" Geordi replied. "I can turn this ship right around and take you back to the Delphi Ardu system. Let you sleep on an electrified rock. How's that for shore leave?"

They all knew Worf well enough to stifle their laughter.

"That would suit me fine," the Klingon answered.

* * *

><p>Troi's office was a pastel oasis, and the counselor felt like a desert bloom, drawing up every last drop of energy to make it through her final obligation of the day.<p>

"I don't think age is important. I'm looking for personnel with a record of taking initiative. I don't mind friction when we redraw the security teams and take on new crew. I do mind spending all my time training," Tasha continued.

"We have a good two months before crew transfers at Starbase 74. You could coordinate with security heads on other starships to develop some standardized training," Deanna suggested.

"That should come from Starfleet HQ."

"But we're in the field – you have different needs."

Tasha sighed. "Isn't that the truth? Deanna, I can't tell you how amazing Cdr. Riker was on the planet. He read that situation like a pro. It scares me, every time I think about how I would've reacted in his place. I didn't think my respect for him could have grown any greater, but it did. We need more officers like him – tempered, controlled, intelligent, brave . . ."

Deanna didn't change expression from her professional smile. "He's not perfect, Tasha. He has faults, just like the rest of us."

"Not on the job. Not that I can see," Tasha said worshipfully. "We owe our lives to him."

"Hmmm."

Deanna seemed uncomfortable, so Tasha changed the subject. "Troi, what was it like on the ship while we were down on the surface?"

Deanna took a sip from her tea, thinking it over. It had not been easy to feel the fear and resignation of more than a thousand imperiled souls. The captain had done his best to reassure them, but no speech could assuage the lonely anguish of contemplating one's final hours. "People were frightened. We tried to make them comfortable, especially the children, but it was cold and dark."

"Do you think that morale has suffered?"

"I wouldn't say that. Everyone who signs on to live and work aboard a starship does so with full awareness of the potential danger. I would say that it forced many people to take a good look at their lives and think about their priorities. I don't think the threat of death alone lowers morale. I think it's the fear of dying without having lived life to its fullest that makes our people feel low."

Tasha nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good point. All the more reason to seize the day."


	23. Chapter 23

Deanna was packing an overnight bag in her quarters when she felt Will approach her door. She waited for him to press the announcement button. "Come in," she called.

"Counselor," Will greeted her with faux formality.

"Commander."

"Got any plans for leave? They have it all at the resort – surfing, diving, kayaking, lying on the sanding…"

Deanna shone a secretive little smile on him. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Oh?" Will dropped his easy grin.

"Yes. I have a date."

His brow furrowed. "Who with?"

She sensed he was genuinely upset – she couldn't keep playing with him. "Lt. Yar."

He grinned. "Oh."

"We're going clothes shopping."

"Good luck. That won't take three days, though." He stopped and considered. "Will it?"

"Funny."

"Seriously, though, there's a cove near the hotel – not easy to get to, but with a pristine beach, if you can stomach a dangerous approach."

"Sounds like just your style, Will: a risky venture with a gorgeous payoff."

Mischief was dancing in his bright blue eyes. "Come with me."

"Alone?"

"Why not?"

Deanna thought she knew very well why not. A chance for Will to show off his manly prowess in a boat, and then a secluded beach . . . "We'll see."

"That's better than a no." He kissed her on the cheek and left.

* * *

><p>Geordi supervised as Data packed. "You're bringing civilian clothes this time, right?"<p>

"Undoubtedly."

"What about a swimsuit? We could go diving and snorkeling."

"A swimsuit?"

"Haven't you ever been swimming?"

"No."

Geordi gave him a look of incredulity. "Seriously, Data? What have you been doing for the past 20 years?"

"I am unsure if I have sufficient buoyancy to swim."

"There's only one way to find out."

"Perhaps another time."

Geordi shrugged. "I think you should be prepared for any eventuality. A moonlight swim can be very romantic."

Data paused. "Are you offering me relationship advice?"

"Just living vicariously through you."

The android continued packing. "How ironic."

"Do you have sandals?

Data gave him a look of inquiry.

"For walks on the beach. Or beachcombing."

"Beach combing?"

"Not a literal term."

"Ah. Is it also considered romantic?"

"Umm…no." Geordi was trying to dissolve the bubble of laughter that threatened to erupt as he pictured his android friend as a beach bum.

"That is good. Lt. Yar reacts negatively to typical romantic scenarios."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. Still, you might want to bring some beach clothes."

"I will follow your advice, my friend."

* * *

><p>Data was always true to his word. He soon entered the replication center, ready to supplement his vacation wardrobe. "Computer, display apparel suitable for the beach."<p>

"Over 1000 options match search parameters. Do you wish to delimit by category?"

"Yes – display swimwear."

A tiny, virtual Data appeared and was outfitted from the waist down in an array of swimsuits, some tiny and revealing, offering no more coverage than a pair of briefs, some knee length and slung low on the hips, with the styles running the gamut between.

"Halt." Data assessed the full body wetsuit on display. It was the only ankle length option. It was probably not what Geordi had had in mind.

"Computer, change category to leisure outfits." The image shimmered, and miniature Data was dressed in sandals, color-blocked madras shorts, and a v-neck shirt with puffy sleeves.

Data sighed. He didn't need a second opinion to know that the outfit would look ludicrous on him. "Confine results to trousers."

* * *

><p>The destination for shore leave was perfectly chosen – the weather was mild and sunny, the water a clear sparkling green, the sand an iridescent pink. The sky was cloudless, the five moons of Danula II ghostly slivers in the blue expanse.<p>

Tasha dropped her bag on the hotel room bed and went straight to the balcony that looked out on the ocean. The surf was crashing, seabirds were cawing, and it looked altogether like the most idyllic holodeck program, except that it was real.

"Hi, Tasha!" Beverly waved from the balcony two doors over, where she leaned over the railing. "Isn't it a perfect day?"

"Perfect!" Tasha waved back. She welcomed the chance to relax and try to forget the difficult missions they'd faced.

A knock on the door brought her back inside. She opened it to Deanna, who was dressed for their shopping trip in a ruffled purple one-shoulder tank and a bright, multicolored sarong. Her hair was down around her shoulders, a string of jewels winking amongst the dark curls. "Are you ready?"

"I guess." Tasha wore a baggy, calf-length yellow jumper over a white tee, tied at the waist with an orange sash.

"Don't sound so gloomy – it'll be fun."

"Should we invite Beverly?"

Deanna thought it over. "I wouldn't want you to feel double-teamed."

"You're right. One friend's scrutiny is enough."

It took them some time to escape the touristy shops on the boardwalk and reach the town proper. They walked – they were in no hurry, and the weather was perfect for strolling. They chatted of this and that, trying not to talk about work, invariably coming to it and steering themselves away again. They finally came to a group of boutiques, one advertising clothes and goods made by hand.

"Oh, look at this – how novel! Not replicated. This is really special!" Deanna said excitedly.

"Hmm…I don't see the point. Why produce something by hand if the replicator can make it instantly?"

"I don't know," Deanna replied, pulling open the door. "Maybe they're bored."

Inside, the wares were as artfully laid out as installations in a museum. Deanna clasped her hands in delight. "Look at that dress – exquisite! Oh, and that purple suit, and those scarves – I'm in heaven!"

Tasha couldn't say the same. The clothes on display were ultra-feminine and elaborate, with fluttery bits and pieces that served no purpose but decoration stirring in the breeze from the open windows. It was very intimidating.

The shopkeeper approached them. "Welcome, ladies. We have complimentary truffles and sparkling wine, if you care for refreshment."

Deanna pressed the woman's arm. "You're my new best friend." She made a beeline for the dainty table of treats, popped a chocolate into her mouth and closed her eyes.

Tasha eyed the spread suspiciously. "Troi, how do you know they're safe? This whole setup doesn't sit right with me."

"That's exactly the point, Tasha. We're here to expand your horizons. And can you try to call me Deanna while we're off duty?"

"Yes, Counselor," Tasha teased.

Deanna soon got down to business, dragging Tasha from display to display and filling the skeptical security chief's arms with her selections. After a few futile protests, Tasha allowed the Betazoid to take control; under her soft dark eyes and pretty smile, Deanna had an iron will.

* * *

><p>The counselor waited outside the changing room, wineglass in hand. Tasha was taking an inordinate amount of time. "Everything all right in there?"<p>

Tasha's answer was muffled, but Deanna could feel her discomfort. "Don't be embarrassed, Tasha. It's just us. There's nothing to worry about."

The door swung slowly open, and Tasha stood with a pained expression on her face. She had begun with a frilly off-the-shoulder two-piece ensemble in candy pink, with cutouts at the waist and three layers of flounces on the skirt. "I look like an idiot," she moaned.

Deanna fought down her laughter with all her strength. "No, no, you don't, but I think I chose that because it would look good on me. It's not really you."

Tasha plucked despondently at the skirt. "I'm not a dress person. Can't we just nix all the dresses right now?"

"Please, give them a try – just for fun," Deanna wheedled.

"I can't see myself getting off a roundhouse kick in this." Tasha tried, hitching the flounces up and raising her knee to her chin.

"Is that your only criterion?"

"If I can't fight, I can't do my job." She snapped her leg out and brought it back, her arms up in guard.

"We're on vacation," Deanna said gently. "You can stand down, Lieutenant."

"I can't." Her jaw was set in a hard line.

"Tasha, your expectations for yourself are too high. No one expects you to be a warrior at every moment of every day. Sometimes, you can just be a woman." Deanna came into the room and began sorting through the piles of clothes. "Try this one."

"'Kay." Tasha sullenly pushed the Betazoid out and closed the door.

Deanna let out a long sigh. Her combadge chirped. "Riker to Troi."

"Troi here."

"How's the date going?"

"Tell him to mind his own business!" came the testy answer from the changing room.

"Swimmingly. Is there something you needed?"

"Yes – the pleasure of your company. I'm organizing a bonfire on the beach tonight. And I've procured some appropriate libations."

"Sounds entertaining," Deanna replied with a smile.

"You bet. Tell your victim."

"Victim?" Deanna's smile disappeared.

"Riker out."

Deanna kept her choice, unladylike comments to herself as the door opened again. This time, Tasha was trying to fight back a smile. "What do you think?"

The second outfit was a silver-white tunic over matching leggings with a subtle, raised pattern in twisted green and silver thread. Tiny embroidered sprigs embellished the hem and neckline, vents at the hips revealed her curves without overemphasis, and the butterfly-sleeved top was flattering without being formfitting. "Now, that's you," Deanna praised. "You look very pretty."

She sensed the wave of emotion as tears filled Tasha's eyes. "I'm so sorry – did I say something to upset you?"

Tasha shook her head and blinked. "No…no…it's just…I never had a mother to dress me up and fuss over me. I've never had anyone do this for me before."

Deanna drew near and hugged her friend. "And I have a mother who dressed me up as if I were her paper doll."

Tasha gave a short laugh. "Sorry. What I meant to say was, thank you for taking the time to help me."

"There's no need to apologize. And I was an only child – I never had a sister to do girly things with, so this is a treat for me, too." Deanna pulled back and smiled at Tasha. "Maybe if I had, it would've taken some of the pressure off me." Tasha wiped her eyes while Deanna patted her shoulder. "Come on, we still have a heap more to try on. I have a feeling that blue one with the ruching will look great."

Tasha sniffled. "What's ruching?"

Deanna smiled, backed out and closed the door.

* * *

><p>Tasha was humming to herself as she put away her haul in the hotel room closet. Deanna had incredible stamina for shopping, and kept at it long after Tasha was ready to quit. Now she had more clothes than she'd ever owned in her life, more than were necessary, in her opinion, but Deanna insisted that part of the fun was having a variety to choose from.<p>

A polite knock on the door gave away the identity of the person on the other side. Tasha opened it. "Hi, Data."

"Hi." He was dressed like a local, in a filmy green and blue shirt with a repeating leaf pattern, and cream linen trousers.

"Who did your makeover?" Tasha asked.

"I do not understand."

She waved a hand. "Never mind."

"How was your shopping trip with Counselor Troi?"

"Fun. A little long. She made me get a whole new wardrobe – want to see?"

"Perhaps later. I came to ask you if you would like to go for a walk on the beach with me."

"I would love to! And I have just the thing to –" Tasha broke off and smacked her forehead.

"What is it?" Data asked, looking at her with concern.

"Troi's right – when you have more clothes to choose from, you can choose something appropriate for any given moment." Tasha shrugged. "What can I say? I didn't know. I've been wearing a uniform for a long time."

"As have I."

Tasha drew the shades and began to undress. "I thought shopping was going to be torturous, but she really tried to make it fun. I think I learned something today."

"What is that?" Data watched with interest as she stripped down to a new pair of underclothes: a flesh-colored camisole and pants set that was much more delicate than the Starfleet-issue skivvies she usually wore.

"That looking feminine doesn't make me any less strong." She pulled out the outfit she had in mind and turned to find Data directly behind her, a determined expression on his face.

"Perhaps we could postpone our walk," he said softly, with an inflection that made her heart race.

"Did you have something else in mind?"

For answer, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, fingering the silky fabric of her camisole, and then running his hands underneath it.

After a long while, she came up for air. "Good idea."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There's an inside joke here – Brent Spiner doesn't wear short pants. Despite the fact that he's from Texas and lives in Malibu, he doesn't believe in them. I hope the thought of real Data seeing virtual Data in a Speedo made you laugh – if not, I'm not doing my job.**

**Nota especial a DanaK y Nathasa39 – muchas gracias por los reviews! No puedo responderles como las otras, pero me gusta leer tus pensamientos. Que sigue la escena perdida como promete, pronto! **


	24. Chapter 24

After a second postponement for Tasha's impromptu fashion show, and a third to answer the effects of her new swimsuits, Data and Tasha were finally off on their walk. Most of the vacationers from the ship had the same idea – they saw many familiar faces on the beach and so walked with a decorous space between themselves.

A shout, and a very familiar person came over. "Hi, Geordi!" Tasha greeted the navigator, incognito in knee-length board shorts and a bright red and cream Hawaiian shirt with a deep v-neck.

"Hi! Mind if I join you?"

"Please!" Tasha said enthusiastically as Data began, "We were going to…" Geordi had already fallen into step with them. "Please," Data amended.

"Welcome to Paradise, huh?"

"It's beautiful here – just what the doctor ordered," Tasha agreed.

"I've been trying to convince Data to try some water sports while we're on vacation." Geordi gave the android a quizzical look, which was met with innocent neutrality. "But no dice."

"You might as well try to convince Worf. He says swimming is too much like bathing," Tasha joked.

"He's not shy about that, is he?"

"He's not shy about much."

They walked past a group of crewmembers playing beach volleyball four on five. Tasha squeezed Data's arm. "Oh, I love this game! They need another player." She ran over like an overexcited kid, the effect heightened by the orange and blue romper she wore. "Hey, can I play?"

"Sure, Lieutenant!" Tasha took the vacant position in the center of the four-person square.

"How's everything going, Data?" Geordi asked.

"Very well, thank you. I was attempting to engage Lt. Yar in a walk on the beach as you suggested."

"I figured I wasn't intruding, as long as there are so many people around. Any chance of making it public any time soon?"

Data watched as Tasha ran to the net, jumped, and spiked the ball to score a point. "I do not foresee such a turn of events in the near future. Lt. Yar is adamant about preserving her privacy, and remains troubled by the notion of formalizing our relationship in any way."

"What do you think about that?"

"I respect her wishes. My needs in a relationship are undefined, at best."

"Rotate!" Tasha yelled. She was quickly going from pickup player to de facto team captain.

"But you're learning as you go along, aren't you?" Geordi asked.

"Yes, I have been learning much from the experience, as I do from my friendship with you. I find that we share many traits in common, in different ways."

"I can see that with you and me, Data, but to be honest, I always thought of you and Tasha as an 'opposites attract' kind of pair."

"It is true that she has personality traits that I continue to find quite confounding. But there is common ground: our lack of family ties, our rescue by Starfleet, our unfamiliarity with certain social norms. I should hope that we share in common a devotion to our work and a respect for the mission of Starfleet and the tenets of the Federation."

"I guess you're right – never thought of it that way. I was only thinking about the oddity of the nerd getting with the jock."

Data turned on his most baffled expression. "The nerd with –"

"Hey!" Tasha ran up to them, divested herself of espadrilles and romper, and thrust them into Data's arms. "Hold these for me." She ran barefoot back to the volleyball net, where the two teams were switching sides. She wore only a rainbow-striped string bikini, and both Data and Geordi watched her lithe, athletic body with absorbed interest.

After another minute, Geordi asked, "What were we talking about?"

Though not all of the criteria for his sexuality program had been met, as they were surrounded by people, Data wondered if he should remedy the deficiency by getting Tasha alone again. "You were about to elaborate on your observation concerning nerds and jocks."

"Forget it. What I should've said was, you are one lucky guy."

A cabana worker rolled a cart of refreshments by. Geordi took an umbrella-topped cup in the shape of a coconut. Data politely refused. Two vacationers got up from their lounge chairs, and the two friends took them, Geordi stretching out and sipping his drink, Data momentarily distracted by the woven slats and the mechanism to collapse the chair flat.

"This design does not seem sound," he said disapprovingly.

"We could sit in the sand…"

Data tested the squeaky plastic slats with the flat of one hand. "That may be our destiny, regardless of our intention."

"Set!" Tasha's voice carried over to them.

"Got it!"

"I do not subscribe to the human concept of luck, Geordi," Data went on. "I believe I can attribute our continued relations to hard work and patience."

"Sure – if it were easy, it wouldn't be as much fun."

"Fun?"

"Sometimes we like the challenge – the one who runs away is more fun to catch."

Data pondered this with furrowed brows. "You mean figuratively."

"Yeah."

"She runs away, figuratively; yes, that is accurate."

"And you keep trying to reel her in – that's what holds your interest."

They watched the subject of their discussion leap up and serve an ace, accepting cheers from the rest of her team and friendly jeers from her opponents.

"I am not certain your assessment is correct. It is not so simple – I believe Tasha desires to be in a relationship with me; however, she is conflicted about the implications."

"Data, I'm not saying she doesn't want to be with you. She's lucky to have you, too."

A wild ball hit the cabana worker on the head with a hollow thump. The game broke up as the players rushed over to ascertain that he wasn't hurt and then avail themselves of his cold drinks. Tasha took a long, collapsible tube of purple liquid and drank it down.

Geordi watched as the red heat emanating from her body took on cooler blue tones. There was a quick, shouted discussion among the players, and then they all ran towards the water, Tasha waving and gesturing for the two to join them.

Geordi got up, but Data didn't change position. "Aren't you coming?"

"I have no human instincts, but I am distinctly inclined to believe that sand, salt water, and servos do not mix," Data replied primly.

"Suit yourself." Geordi took off his shirt and ran down to join the others.

After the initial cold shock of the surf, the water felt refreshing. Tasha jumped into a wave and popped up again, dashing the stinging salt water from her eyes. "Wooh!" She turned her back to the shore and jumped through the next wave, feeling free and light in the clear green water.

Geordi paddled through the waves and bobbed up beside her. "It's good to see you having fun – I never see this side of you at work."

"I have fun – I'm not all business," she protested. She splashed him with a sweep of the arm. "See? Fun."

He splashed her back, and they quickly got into a splashing fight, jumping the waves and laying back to kick water at each other with their feet.

"Truce, truce!" Geordi cried, laughing and coughing at once.

"Oh, your visor – I wasn't even thinking…"

"S'okay. I'd have to get hit right in the face by a wave for it to come off."

The air was filled with chatter and squeals of the people at play in the sea. Tasha turned back to shore and could just make out Data's reclining form, pale and sparkling in the sunlight. She was lifting her arm to wave to him when she felt hands pushing down on her shoulders, trying to force her underwater. She unthinkingly defended herself, grabbing the hands and twisting them in a joint lock that sent the owner under with a splash.

She let go as soon as she saw it was one of the volleyball players. He floundered upright, coughing and sputtering.

"You okay?" Geordi asked dryly.

Between coughs, the young man got out, "I was just kidding around."

"I wouldn't sneak up on the head of security, if I were you," Geordi counseled.

The hapless crewman coughed a little more and tried to recover his dignity, unconsciously puffing out his chest. "Sorry, sir. Don't know what I was thinking."

"That's all right," Tasha replied.

He swam away. Tasha waited for him to get out of earshot before she burst out laughing.

"Wasn't thinking, more like," Geordi quipped.

Data watched his friends play in the water until the sun began to dip low in the sky, the steady breeze turned cooler, and the tide began to come in. Tasha and Geordi finally waded in, the tide sucking at their legs as they splashed over the pebbles and pulverized seashells in the shallows. They skirted past children building castles in the wet sand and made their way up to Data, who had conscientiously procured towels for them.

"Would you care to continue our walk?" he asked Tasha.

She dabbed at her face and ears with the towel. "No, I think I'll take a nap. The ocean really takes it out of you. I want to be awake for the commander's party tonight."

Geordi walked away to stop a cabana worker for a drink.

"Would you like company?" Data asked quietly.

"No – I really want to sleep, and I doubt I'll get any with you around."

"I find your swimsuit quite arresting."

"I noticed." She leaned down, and for an instant, he thought she was going to kiss him, but she merely gathered up her clothes. "Later."

Tasha walked to the hotel and rinsed the sand from her feet at a fountain by the entrance. She got to her room, peeled off her wet bathing suit, and threw herself into bed. With her eyes closed, she could still feel the pull and sway of the ocean and hear the rumble of the surf. She drifted off to sleep on a wave of salty green dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: We never got to see our heroes on a real vacation on TNG. Every time they'd go away, something untoward would happen, a la Menage á Troi or Captain's Holiday or The Mind's Eye. They would talk about the good times they had, so we know they had them. Ergo, I'm writing them a real vacation, no scheming Ferengi or Romulans in sight. ****I watched Captain's Holiday to get the flavor of a 24th century beach resort and check out the clothes (because Menage a Troi leaves much to be desired. Who wears tights to a picnic? Or a shiny shirt?) I had totally forgotten about JLP in that tiny silver bathing suit. Unnnhhh...drool….**


	25. Chapter 25

Riker had instructed everyone to "come hungry" to his party. Tasha was famished – the salt air seemed to augment her appetite. She was debating what to wear; her first instinct was to grab something utilitarian and call it a night, but Troi had helped her pick out some pretty, floaty things that might fit the bill, if only she didn't feel like she was trying too hard. She needed reassurance. She fished her combadge out of her bag. "Yar to Troi."

"I'm outside the door."

Tasha clicked her combadge off and opened the door to the slyly smiling Betazoid. "Were you spying on me?"

"I could feel your trouble from across the hall."

Tasha gestured helplessly at the clothes strewn on the bed. "Look what you've done to me!"

"It's all part of the fun, Tasha. Most people don't wear the same thing every day."

"I'm happy I'm not most people," Tasha grumbled. She scrutinized the Betazoid. "What are you going to wear?"

"Something tight, low, and short," Deanna replied with a wicked smile.

"I see. Something to make him regret what he's missing?"

They shared a frank look. "It's not a subject I wish to discuss, Lieutenant."

"Oh, ho, ho. Now you see how I feel."

Deanna sorted through the hill of clothes on the bed. "I don't mean to be secretive; I simply don't want to reopen old wounds. We had something special – very special – and he threw it over for his career. Threw _me_ over. And just when I thought I was finally over him and able to move on, we get assigned to the same ship."

"I'm sorry, Deanna."

The counselor gave her a bright smile and blinked rapidly. "Nothing to be sorry about. We're just friends now." She picked up a gossamer tunic patterned with whorls of blue on blue and held it up to Tasha's chin.

"Are you still attracted to him?" Tasha asked, dutifully holding still.

Deanna fought back her smile. "Between you and me? Yes. But I think it gives our friendship extra savor."

"Wonder what he thinks."

"Hmmm. He thinks I'm his type, and I think he's mine. Doesn't matter, though. It complicates things too much." Deanna picked up and discarded a split skirt.

"I agree wholeheartedly, though I don't think I have a type."

Deanna chose a silver bralet to go under the transparent blue and a pair of white capris with a lattice of cutouts down the sides. Curiosity lit up her features like the glow of a firefly.

Tasha didn't need Betazoid sensibilities to know where her friend's thoughts had led. "You can ask, but I won't answer."

Deanna handed over the outfit, which Tasha took gratefully. "Ohhh, you're no fun."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

* * *

><p>Will stood over the firepit like a lord surveying his fiefdom. The glowing flames made a cheerful circle of light on the dark beach. Blankets and cushions from the cabanas were scattered around, completing the setting of ease.<p>

Soon, the members of the bridge crew arrived and took seats around the fire. Worf had finally doffed his uniform for a grey wrapper and black trousers. Data watched the others before choosing to sit cross-legged on a cushion next to Geordi.

"Please don't wait – help yourselves," Will announced. "There are clams, mussels, spider-claws…"

"Is there anything that wasn't swimming around happily before it met an untimely end?" Tasha asked acerbically.

"Of course. The hotel was very generous with the provisions." Will whipped the cover away from a cooler containing a smorgasbord of side dishes.

"I don't understand your squeamishness, Lt. Yar," Worf said, piling a plate with shellfish. "Klingons relish food that fights back."

"Well, I do," Deanna countered. As promised, she wore a skintight singlet with a shiny, transparent pink cover-up that covered up nothing. "Betazoids are vegetarians, too. It's impossible to kill an animal when you can sense its thoughts and desires."

"I know what these clams were thinking before I cooked them: Eat me, eat me – I'm delicious!" Will replied.

Deanna wrinkled her nose at Wes and Geordi's laughter. "There'd better be dessert."

"Would I disappoint you? There's chocolate cake, and …" Will paused dramatically before dragging out a refrigerated container. "Danulian pale ale. I think you'll enjoy it." He began passing out bottles around the circle.

"No, thank you, Commander," Wes said politely. "I don't think my mom would approve."

"Where is the good doctor, Wes?" Geordi asked.

The boy rolled his eyes. "She's having dinner alone with the captain."

"What? They're ditching my party?" Will asked with mock outrage.

"I'm glad – it means she won't make me leave once it starts getting good," Wes replied.

"Mmmm…" Deanna had sipped her beer. "It's flowery – like drinking a bouquet."

"It has some tartness, too – nice contrast," Geordi added.

Tasha took a long drink. "I can't taste the alcohol – it's really yummy." Her eyes widened. "Oh, no."

Will's eyes sparkled with devilry. "Oh, yes."

* * *

><p>Hours later, the party had definitely gotten good. The moon was high in the sky, the flames were dying down, and the least word brought out laughter from the crew as they shared tales from their academy years and former postings.<p>

"That reminds me of the time when…" Will began.

"No – no more stories," Deanna interrupted. "We should play a game or sing songs or something."

"Pah!" Worf said in disgust.

"I may be drunk enough to sing, but you all aren't drunk enough to hear me," Geordi slurred.

"Data can sing," Tasha piped up. She lay with her head on Deanna's lap, the Betazoid stroking her hair as if she were a cat.

"Really, Commander?" Wes asked excitedly.

"I can reproduce the recordings of several billion performances," Data replied.

"No, he can really sing. In his own voice," Tasha insisted. She sat up and pointed at him, her forefinger wavering as she tried to focus. "I've heard you."

"Yes, yes, a song!" Deanna clapped her hands.

Data still looked reluctant. "While I am able to sing with perfect pitch and rhythmic accuracy, I am far from competent at conveying the textual shades of meaning that elevate a song to a work of art."

"I can sing the famous heroic aria from Aktuh and Maylota," Worf offered, "though it is not so magnificent without the accompaniment."

"No! Data, we've barely heard from you all night. Please…" Deanna cajoled.

"If you insist…"

"We do," Geordi answered.

Data sat up straighter on his cushion. He threw one more cautious look around the circle of smiling, nodding friends and began to sing. "My romance doesn't have to have a moon in the sky…" His light, sweet tenor commanded the attention of everyone there, even through their alcoholic haze. "My romance doesn't need a blue lagoon standing by, no month of May, no twinkling stars, no hideaway, no soft guitars. My romance doesn't need a castle rising in Spain, nor a dance to a constantly surprising refrain. Wide awake, I can make my most fantastic dreams come true. My romance doesn't need a thing but you."

The crash of the waves was the only audible sound for a few seconds after the last note died away, before they all burst into applause.

"Data…but…that was lovely," Deanna cried.

"You've been holding out on us," Will agreed.

Data accepted the praise of his friends with unflinching modesty, his eyes on Tasha, who was pouring the contents of her beer bottle down her throat. While Data had been singing, Tasha had felt the rest of the world shrink to a pinpoint, leaving just the two of them, the fire, and the crashing waves. It was an almost unbearably touching moment. She'd felt such a surge of love and pride that she thought her heart would burst. Romance had always been a bad word to her, a red flag, a childish fantasy that wasn't real and shouldn't be expected unless she wanted to be disappointed. Now she was silently telling herself to keep her feelings under control, though the moonlit night and the ale and the passion inside her were all at odds with her internal monologue.

She got unsteadily to her feet. "Think I'll call it a night."

"No!" Protests came from all sides.

"You can't go now – Worf is going to sing us some Klingon opera," Geordi said with a laugh.

"All the more reason. Goodnight." Tasha ignored her friends' protestations and turned away, staggering in the soft sand.

"Lt. Yar." Data was suddenly by her side, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. "Allow me to assist you."

"Thanks," she whispered, keeping her voice quiet for fear that she'd betray the emotional upheaval she felt, the zing of desire from just his light touch on her arm.

As he led her back to the hotel, the first howls of Worf's aria floated back on the breeze.

* * *

><p>Wes waited for an opportune moment to take his leave. "Thanks for inviting me, Commander." He said goodnight to everyone and walked back to the hotel. The bridge crew may have been able to sit through Klingon opera for a laugh, but Wes couldn't stomach it, at least not stone cold sober.<p>

He got back to an empty room. _Mom's still not back, _he thought. She and the captain were old friends. They were probably catching up on old times, the way adults always do. Wes went to the balcony and looked out over the beach, where he could still make out the fading embers of the bonfire. It was sure nice to have been included – there weren't many kids his age on the ship, and sometimes it was tough to figure out where he fit in. Most of the children were younger – not many teenagers would've have left high school to explore space. Of course, he'd jumped at the chance. And he planned to apply for early admission to the Academy at one of the satellites soon. They had quotas at the satellites – that was the only drawback – but it would be great to go to a school where he'd be surrounded by likeminded kids his own age.

Wes lay back on a lounge chair, hidden from view by the potted trees lining the balcony, and looked straight up at the stars. They weren't so bright or so numerous as they were in space, but they were still beautiful, and beckoned him to their mysteries.

A noise startled him out of his reverie, and he looked between the fronds of a potted palm to see Lt. Yar come out to the balcony two doors away. She'd taken off her tunic and was dressed in a silvery half-top and capris that gave significant glimpses of her skin. He thought she looked pretty – she didn't often strike him as pretty; she was so businesslike all the time. But Lt. Yar was nice, she always had a smile for him, and she was one of the youngest senior officers, young enough to be like an older sister, or a cool aunt.

She was presently joined by Lt. Cdr. Data. Wes couldn't hear what they were saying, but he thought it was nice that everyone on the bridge crew was such good friends. It was like a special family, bigger than the one he'd grown up with. It'd been just the two of them for most of his life. He often wished his mom would think about dating someone. It would be neat to see her really happy, and to have a father figure, someone to do guy things with.

Lt. Yar and Cdr. Data seemed very friendly. She was leaning back on the clear railing, smiling and laughing, and he was standing close to her. Very close. And suddenly, Wesley wished he'd gone back inside.

They were _kissing._ The sight of it was searing his eyeballs. Lt. Yar and Lt. Cdr. Data? Seriously? In a flash, Wes remembered his friend Jake talking about walking in on his mom and dad, and how it had scarred him for life. At the time, Wes had been totally nonchalant about it. "You know your parents do it, right? How else do you think you came into the world?" But now, Wes completely understood. It was like a disaster he couldn't tear his eyes away from. Lt. Yar seemed like the career Starfleet type – married to her job. And Data was… Data. This couldn't be happening.

And yet, it was. Not only was it happening, but it was getting worse – Data had his hands on Lt. Yar's bottom. Wesley began to silently pray to be transported away, or to disappear.

* * *

><p>Tasha broke away and cradled Data's face between her hands. "We should do this on our own sometime." She kissed his cheeks, made her way down to his jaw, ruffling his hair and weaving a little on her feet.<p>

"Do what?"

"Go on vacation alone together. You could sing to me. I could show you how much I like your singing." She pulled him in for another searching kiss.

After a time, he raised his head from hers. "But if we went away together, would that not be tantamount to announcing that we are a couple?"

"I don't care." She hopped up on the thin railing, holding his shoulders for balance, and linked her arms around his neck. "I just want to be with you alone, somewhere beautiful like this."

"Hmph." A happy expression lit the android's features. He put his hands on her waist and threw a look of assessment at the thin barrier between a drop to the ground several floors below. "This railing is not suitable for sitting, Tasha."

In response, she hooked her legs around him and launched herself into his arms. "Fine. You know what I want?"

"What?"

"I want you to carry me to that bed and have your way with me. You know why?"

Data swallowed hard, an apt mannerism for the change overcoming his body. "Why?"

She leaned forward until they were nose-to-nose. "Because we're in love. And that's what people do when they're in love."

He waited no longer to concede to her wishes, pushing open the door with one hand while he supported her with the other.

* * *

><p>Wesley let out his breath as the officers went back inside. Scarred for life. He got up and backed into his room, horrified to think on what was happening a few meters away. He jumped when the front door of the suite opened. "Mom?" he called.<p>

Beverly paused at the door. It had been unreasonable to hope that Wesley would still be out, and that she might have a few minutes to change the tone of the evening from friendly to something more intimate. She gave the captain a regretful smile. "Goodnight, Jean-Luc." She turned and closed the door before she could see the disappointment on his face.

She took in her son's distressed look with instant concern. "Wes, are you all right?"

"Yes – no – would it be okay if I went for a walk?" he stammered.

"Yes, dear. Stay close to the resort."

"'Bye." West went out as if he were sleepwalking.

Beverly took in the now-empty room with chagrin. "Damn!" She said out loud. "Damn, damn, damn!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: _My Romance_ – Music/lyrics Rodgers and Hart. That doesn't make it a songfic, does it? Does it?**


	26. Chapter 26

The hotel restaurant offered a continental breakfast at a do-it-yourself bar, though Data wondered what continent and why it signified. Still, the fresh coffee and rolls matched Tasha's usual breakfast fare. He had left her sleeping in her room not long after sunrise. The thought of her lying naked in bed stopped him for a moment. It had been a memorable night – she had been loving, candid, passionate . . . He hoped it wasn't due solely to the alcohol.

He was ready to take away the breakfast tray when a curious machine caught his eye. It was a large, clear, Rube Goldberg-esque contraption filled with fruit, and at the push of a button, the colorful spheres began to tumble through a series of slicers and squeezers. Data put his nose up to the surface for a closer look.

"Hi, Commander."

He turned at the despondent voice behind him. "Good morning, Wesley."

The juice was being expressed into a dainty glass. Wesley looked from it, to the breakfast tray in Data's hands, to Data himself.

"Is that for Lt. Yar?"

The android's heuristic programs made a mad scramble for an appropriate answer. He was bound by a promise to tell no one of his secret relationship, save Geordi. He was incapable of lying, but evasion was a tactic that presented itself as acceptable. "You have arisen early."

"They give surfing lessons in fifteen minutes." Wesley was dressed to surf in a knee-length wetsuit.

"Have you surfed before?"

"Mr. Data, I . . . I saw you two last night. On the balcony."

Data put the breakfast tray down on the bar. "Ah."

"I wasn't spying, I swear! At least, I didn't mean to spy." Wesley's voice dropped lower. "I wish I hadn't seen anything."

"As do I," Data agreed softly. He saw the distress in the boy's expression, and put aside his own dilemma. "Wesley, you look troubled. In my experience, humans can alleviate their troubles by talking about them."

"I'm sorry, it's just – I don't want to say that my illusions of you were shattered, but . . . it was unexpected. You're all my heroes . . . I look up to you," Wesley stammered glumly.

"A flattering thought, but none of us is infallible. You are an acting ensign now, Wesley – a member of Starfleet yourself. No one expects you to be perfect, either."

Wesley looked miserable. "I shouldn't have been spying."

"I believe you when you say it was unintentionally done," Data replied without accusation.

"Still, you deserve to have privacy. It was none of my business," the young man muttered. "I just thought you were above all that."

Data cocked his head. "Above the need to connect with another person? I consider myself fortunate that it is part of my programming. Without that need, I would not be able to make friends, and my existence would be lonely indeed."

"But it's a secret, right? No one's ever talked about it to me."

Data didn't answer. He felt bound by his word of honor to follow his promise to the letter.

Wesley thought he saw a silent appeal in the second officer's eyes. He straightened to his full height. "We don't spread rumors in Starfleet, sir. I won't say anything to anyone – trust me. It's your personal life. If I liked a girl, I wouldn't want it all over the ship, either."

Data stuck out his hand in a gesture of acceptance, and Wesley shook it, a smile breaking out on his face. "Thank you, Ensign."

* * *

><p>A sliver of sun pierced through a chink in the blackout curtains and drove a shard of light into Tasha's closed eyes. She stirred and was immediately assaulted by pounding in her head and desperate thirst.<p>

"Ow." She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her head to stop throbbing.

The door opened, and Data came through and dropped the keycard on the entryway table. "You are awake," he said brightly.

"Mmph."

"I have brought you breakfast."

Tasha squinted at the tray as Data put it on the nightstand. She smelled coffee, but the thought of it turned her stomach. "Water…"

"Certainly." Data disappeared and returned with a glass filled from the faucet.

Tasha sat up, pulling the covers to her chin, and drank the whole thing down. She flopped back against the pillow and yanked the covers over her head.

Data examined the lump in the blanket with curiosity. "Are you going back to sleep?"

The answer was indistinct.

"I thought we could discuss our vacation plans. There is a propulsion conference on Beth Delta that might be of interest to both of us, and the volcanic rock island where it will take place is purported to be quite picturesque."

Tasha pushed the blanket back from one half-closed eye. "What?"

"The conference is in two months, but registration is still open," Data went on blithely, "Unless you would prefer to go somewhere without an agenda; however, I find it beneficial to structure one's time away."

She rubbed her bleary eyes. "What are you going on about?"

Data darted his head in two quick motions. "A vacation. Alone together. You and me."

A short, mirthless laugh escaped her. "Don't be ridiculous – we can't go away together."

"I do not understand."

"Too obvious. What are you thinking?" She groaned and got out of bed, searched the dresser until she found a robe, and tied it on. "God, my head! I think I went overboard last night."

Data's puzzlement increased. "We were not in a boat at any time."

Tasha closed her eyes with a sigh. "I mean, I think I had too much to drink." She crossed into the bathroom and splashed her face. "Damn that Riker."

"Is seven bottles of ale over four hours too much?" Data inquired.

She poked her head out to fix him with a glare. "You were keeping track?"

"Tasha, if I could direct your attention to the subject at hand, you did not think the idea ridiculous last night."

"What idea?"

"Of going away on vacation."

"Don't be absurd."

Data fortified his expression with a hint of firmness. "It was your idea."

She snorted. "No way."

"It is true."

"I don't remember that." She walked back into the room and stood facing him, her hands on her hips.

Data detected the impending danger, but held his ground nonetheless. "I cannot lie to you."

"There's no way I would've suggested that we go on vacation together. It contradicts everything we've talked about," Tasha said evenly.

Data took a moment to find the file in his memory records. Tasha's beer-soaked, breathy voice issued forth from the android's lips, repeating the conversation from the night before.

Tasha's blue eyes turned steely. Her jaw worked as she attempted to get her anger under control. When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped and harsh. "Data, I didn't say I didn't say that, I said I don't remember saying it. Has it occurred to you that I might say things I don't mean when I'm drunk? And that the last thing I want is for my own words to be thrown in my face?"

He listened to her with a deepening frown. She left no opening for a response.

"Normal people don't do that, you know. If you truly want to be more human, why don't you act more humanely? So I was talking out of my ass last night – great. Thanks for pointing it out to me. Thanks for showing me that I sound like a bimbo when I'm drunk, and I don't know what's good for me. I hope you're proud of yourself. I was wrong, and you were right. Happy now?" She wound herself up to a shouting climax.

"No," he replied succinctly.

"Oh, you . . ." Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Do me a favor and just leave. Just leave. I don't need anyone's help to feel bad about myself."

Data weighed the advantages and disadvantages of trying to stay and fight her. Experience told him it would be futile. He obeyed silently, shutting the door noiselessly behind him.

He continued down the hall and around the corner, hesitating a moment before knocking on the door. It was still very early.

A sleepy Geordi opened the door a crack. "Data . . . what can I do for you, friend?"

The android looked at him forlornly. "I thought perhaps you might like to go for a walk on the beach with me."

* * *

><p>Deanna sat in the stern of the two-person dinghy, watching Will manhandle the oars against the current. He was tanned and shirtless, and his muscles bunched as he fought to propel the boat over the waves.<p>

"Hold the rudder steady, Deanna."

Even with a crew of two, he was relentlessly in control. "Aye, sir," she replied sardonically.

He winked at her and corrected their direction, jabbing the oar into the green water.

"I thought you said this was going to be dangerous. Seems pretty tame to me," Deanna teased.

Will looked at her without levity. "There's a submerged reef about 50 meters out from the cove. If we don't catch the tide just right, it'll rip the hull apart. We wouldn't last more than a few minutes in the water before hypothermia took us. Unless we drowned first."

Deanna's black eyes widened. "Don't play games with me, Will. You're scaring me."

"I told you it was dangerous. You came anyway."

Her lashes fluttered. "I trust you to keep me safe."

He grinned at her, his teeth brilliantly white in contrast to his tanned skin. "I will, Imzadi. I promise."

* * *

><p>The hotel restaurant was surrounded by glazed windows that let onto a veranda above the slope of the beach. It was early for vacationers that enjoyed sleeping in, but late for two officers who maintained an air of dignity and poise, even out of uniform and dressed for the beach.<p>

Jean-Luc took the jam Beverly proffered. "Thank you. It's an exciting time for us, an unprecedented time. Fifty years ago, who would've imagined that a Klingon would serve aboard a Federation starship? Or that we would be free of warmongering and able to explore, simply explore, and give disparate people a chance to come together, like this next diplomatic mission." The captain paused. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

Beverly's blue eyes were dark with warmth. "I have a 15-year-old that likes to talk about warp theory, Jean-Luc. You're fine."

"How is Wesley?"

"He's good, he's surfing. I hope that shakes him out of the little funk he was in this morning."

"A funk? Why?"

Beverly leaned forward conspiratorially. "Did I mention he's 15?" She sat back and took a sip of coffee. "Adolescence is a morass all its own. I know what I suffered when I was his age – the awkwardness, the need to disconnect from childish games, new feelings, new dreams – but I can't know if it's the same for boys. They mature differently. One minute, he's demanding to be treated like a grown-up, the next, he's asking for extra helpings of dessert before bedtime."

Jean-Luc shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "A father might have helped, or he might have been a lightning rod for trouble. I was very much at odds with my own father at that age, and with my older brother. I turned to my friends to help me work out my issues."

"Hmmm." Beverly was not keen to follow up the thread. She knew Jean-Luc felt responsible for depriving Wesley of his father – he'd said as much. But it was ten years ago. How long would he continue to think of her as the sainted widow of his best friend?

They sat in an easy silence, nibbling their croissants, watching the vacationers stake their claims on the pink sand.

Jean-Luc brushed away invisible crumbs from his bare legs. "This is quite nice, Beverly. I've always felt . . . comfortable talking to you."

"As do I."

"We should do this more often on the ship. Have breakfast together. When our schedules permit."

Beverly smiled at him, holding his grey eyes with a long look. "I'd like that."

* * *

><p>Geordi and Data walked side by side, away from the main strip that was slowly filling up with blankets and umbrellas and vacationing families. "It's beautiful here, but I miss the ship already – isn't that funny? It's only been a couple of days," Geordi said.<p>

"Perhaps it is the familiarity of routine that you miss."

"No, it's _her_. I find myself wondering if she's okay, thinking about who's manning the helm, if he's treating her right . . ."

"Indeed," Data said with a raised eyebrow.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I do. It's how I know I'm in the right place – there's nowhere else I'd rather be than posted to the Enterprise."

They walked on, listening to the surging waves and the cries of seabirds. "What about you, Data? Do you think you'll always be in Starfleet?"

The android considered. "'Always' has the potential to be a very long time for me. I do not know what the future holds, but Starfleet has the advantage of providing an infinite variety of experiences."

"What if you went smaller? An infinite variety could get too big, too empty after a while. Do you ever think about making a home in some corner of a world somewhere, and staying put?"

Geordi thought his friend looked wistful. "I have. I do – it is a future I hope to attain someday, with a companion."

"Someone like you – another android?"

"Alas, there are no other androids like me. If I knew more about my own origins, I could endeavor to create another being like me, but any such android would be new to the world, an infant. I would hope to have a companion who is a partner – an equal."

Geordi laid an arm over Data's shoulder. "I don't think you'll find your equal anywhere in the universe, my friend."

* * *

><p>"Hold on, Deanna!" Will paddled furiously as they neared the cove.<p>

Her knuckles turned white from gripping the seat. "Are we going to make it?"

"I think we'll just – listen, grab that oar and help me paddle. We need to catch this next swell."

Deanna released her grip and bent down to retrieve the oar below, when she was suddenly hit flat in the back by a wave. She held her breath instinctively and fought to open her eyes, a wall of green-blue silence suddenly engulfing her. The silence was terrifying, as was the fear she could sense pouring off Will. In another instant, her life vest shot her to the surface and Will was dragging her back into the boat, her legs painfully scraping the sides. She coughed and gasped.

"Just hold on – we're almost there!" Will cried. She lay on the bottom of the boat between his knees as he paddled for all he was worth.

A rush as they rode the crest of a wave, and the boat was ashore, spraying sand from the force of the sliding bow.

Deanna was shaking uncontrollably. Will jumped out and dragged the boat further in, and then lifted her out. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"I could've been killed!" Deanna couldn't stop herself from shaking. She went limp in Will's arms.

"I was never going to let anything happen to you."

A completely unrefined expletive escaped the counselor. She thumped him with her fist. "Why did I listen to you? I could be back at the hotel getting my nails done!"

He laughed rather helplessly at this, still throwing off fear and concern and relief. Deanna bonked him again with her little fist. "I mean it!" She couldn't hold back a giggle that turned Will's laughter into guffaws. "Oh, put me down. Let's explore this blasted cove of yours."

He set her on her feet but quickly crushed her to him in a hug. "Anything you say."

* * *

><p>Data and Geordi had walked far from the resort, and the beach was becoming less sandy, more pebbled, the ocean wilder, with black rocks jutting out of the surf and pools of bright sea life in the eddies. It was low tide, and a long sandbar struck a bridge through the ocean. They could both see a lone runner at the outmost tip.<p>

"I think that's Tasha," Geordi hazarded.

"Affirmative."

The navigator looked back in the direction of the resort. "I skipped breakfast, and I'm starting to regret it. Mind if I head back?"

Data gave him a look of gratitude. "Not at all."

Geordi walked away with a wave, as Data stooped and rolled the cuffs of his trousers above his white-gold ankles. He headed out for the sandbar, his footprints perfectly outlined in the wet sand.

Ahead, Tasha slowed to a walk. She had gone out as far as she could without swimming, and she couldn't very well pretend not to see him. He'd trapped her, and there was nothing she could do but slow her approach.

He didn't hurry either. They came inexorably closer, the ocean now and then throwing swells over the long strip of sand. As they drew nearer, Data could see that she was wearing old clothes: a battered tee over an athletic singlet. Her hair was held back with a band, and she had no makeup on.

They got close enough to hear each other. "I came out here to be alone," Tasha began, shouting over the boom of the surf.

Data didn't answer. There was nothing he could say that would be suitable, and he was not disposed to placate her by turning away in defeat.

They got close enough to speak, and for Tasha to see his wind-ruffled hair, the glint of his metallic skin in the sun, and his toes buried in the sand, and to feel drawn to him.

He turned when he overtook her and walked beside her, back to shore. "Are you still upset?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"It would help me if you would tell me why." He took in the stubborn jut of her jaw. "If you are interested in helping me understand."

The waves erased their wet footprints as they walked. Tasha looked straight down at the ground. "I owe Starfleet my life, you know."

He waited for her to go on, watching her with a neutral expression.

"My life – my soul, even. They saved me from a fate worse than death. It's the least I can do, to dedicate my life to serving the people who saved me." She pulled off her headband and twirled it in her hands, her blond bangs blowing across her forehead. "I was Wesley's age when I made the trip that changed me forever. But I wasn't like him – I wasn't curious about the ship or eager to show off how quickly I could learn and become a part of the team. I was living day by day. I was trying to stop screaming in my sleep every night. I was trapped in my own head, the most selfish person you could ever see. And the counselor on board said that I needed to be – I needed to be selfish, and take control of my own recovery, or I'd never make it.

"So I did. I healed, little by little, until I could look outside of myself and realize I have something to give back. The time for selfishness is over.

"And soon enough, I found plenty of opportunities to risk my life to save others who needed my help. And every time, the thought was there to spur me on, no matter what the danger, that I am alive because other people risked their lives to save me. They didn't know me. They could've stayed in orbit and flown away and left me to my fate. Instead, they came down and took in anyone willing to flee, because it was their duty."

She slowed and stopped, facing him. "And what you told me this morning represents a threat to that duty. Can I blame a few drinks and say I've never thought about what it would be like to run away with you? Data, can't you see how tempted I am? I could make things official with you; hell, I could marry you, and then what? What if one of us gets promoted and assigned to another ship? Do we turn it down, and resent the other person for hindering our career? What if I'm forced to choose between what's best for the ship and what's best for us? What if, god forbid, the captain should send one of us on a mission that means certain death – you know it's possible, you've taken all the same sim-tests I have – and I hesitate in that crucial moment, for fear of losing you? What if the temptation to shirk my duty out of love for you is too great?"

Data took Tasha's hands. She was obviously still upset, but anger was no longer the foremost emotion in her tear-filled eyes. "Tasha, many people are able to reconcile a personal relationship with the demands of a Starfleet career."

"But I'm not most people!" She tore her hands away. "I try to be strong, I want to be strong, but what if I'm tested and I fail? How many people might suffer because of my weakness?"

The water level was rising, covering the tops of their feet. "There are some mysteries we cannot solve until the situation is upon us," Data said softly.

"No – not good enough!" Tasha stomped off towards shore again, splashing in the rising tide. "I won't have it – I won't let myself give in to temptation. I won't lose control. We should go back to being friends – just friends. It's safer. Less complicated. It's for the best."

Data was right behind her. "I do not believe that would make you happy." He touched her arm.

She threw him off again. "I'm not happy now!"

In a few strides, he positioned himself in front of her and she blundered straight into him, blinded by tears. She put up her hands to push him away, but instead broke down, her head bowing to fall against his chest. He enfolded her in his arms and held her as she cried, violent sobs that shook her whole body.

When the emotional storm finally passed, she made no move to run away, but stayed leaning her full weight against him, wiping her eyes dry on his shirt.

"Tasha, I think you feel compelled to test me, test our relationship, to see if it can withstand the full brunt of your imagined faults. Then you push me away, sometimes literally as well as figuratively, as if to see whether or not I will come back to you again.

"But, Tasha . . ." She turned her tear-stained face up to his, her breath catching in her throat in shuddering after-sobs. Data went on in his gentle voice. "The only method to test the yield strength of any given thing is to actually break it. It is the only way to prove how much pressure is too much." He brushed her hair from her eyes, where the salt spray was clumping together the fine blond wisps. "I will not let you break the bond between us. It is too precious. You must make a leap of faith, and trust that what we have is real, and good for the both of us."

She said his name brokenly and pulled him to her in a savage kiss, raking her hands through his hair and opening his lips with hers. She kissed him as if she wanted to devour him, and felt him respond in passionate kind, belying what he claimed he could not feel. The kiss went on and on until a swell sucked at Tasha's legs and made her stagger.

"My god, we're underwater."

The tide had turned, and the water was sloshing against their ankles. "Come on!" She grabbed Data's hand and started running to shore. "Unless you're ready to find out if you can swim!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If you don't feel the need to review after this behemoth of a chapter that contains the core of the story and several drops of my blood, well, I don't know what to say. You have no heart! So, click the obnoxious blue Review button, for Pete's sake! And I'm going to try to calm down! **


	27. Chapter 27

Three – Possession

Geordi liked to say that shore leave shored them up against the various ills of extended space travel: boredom, exposure to alien diseases, astrophobia, cabin fever – and he was right. The vacation bolstered the crew for several weeks, enough time for talk to change from remembering the fun they'd had on Danula II to anticipating where they'd go next.

The system they were currently in was all about work. Tasha vigilantly watched the two commanding officers she stood with in the main transporter room. Diplomacy was not her strong point, and she consciously followed the lead of the captain and first officer. She aspired to project an image as sophisticated as Picard's and as confidant as Riker's, even in a situation like this one. The briefs on the two warring planets in the Beta Renner system promised that more than diplomacy might be called for on this escort mission. Tasha tugged once at the hem of her dress uniform tunic and then willed her hands to stay decorously by her sides.

"The delegates are ready to beam aboard, Captain," the transporter chief announced.

"Energize," Picard ordered.

Five furry aliens shimmered onto the platform. The captain delivered his welcome speech and introduced his officers, who were trying to disguise their discomfort as the room quickly filled with the distinctive smell of wet dog.

"Cdr. Riker will see to your comforts during your stay," Picard finished.

Will took his cue. "If you would follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."

"We would first supervise the transport of our food," the head delegate replied. The universal translator didn't filter out the undercurrent growl in his voice.

The officers exchanged the briefest of looks. "Sir, you'll find we are able to provide –"

The delegate cut Riker off. "We eat only our own native animals. They are caged and ready for transport."

"Live animals?" It was out before Tasha could stop herself.

"Of course. We can hold them in the cargo bay," Riker said smoothly. "If you would select a member of your party to accompany her, Lt. Yar will oversee the transport."

With a growl and a snap from the head delegate that went untranslated, one of the Anticans peeled off from the rest and pointed his blunt snout around Tasha, sniffing audibly. She couldn't keep the look of disgust off her face. He blew a huff of dissatisfaction through his wet black nose. She winced at the fine spray of moisture that hit her cheeks.

The captain, commander, and other delegates filed out. Tasha's charge waved a furry paw at her. "Lead the way, Lt. Yar."

"Do you have a name?" she asked, trying to match Picard's civility in tone.

A short series of licks, whines and barks was the answer.

Tasha sighed. "Right this way, sir."

The turbolift ride was mercifully short – the delegate's canine scent was overpowering in the enclosed space. They reached the cargo bay and Tasha relieved the operator on duty with a nod. She gave a look to the two security officers posted by the door that warned them to be ready. A message with the target coordinates came through on the panel. "Any instructions before I beam them aboard, sir?" Tasha asked.

She couldn't tell if the Antican was smiling or just panting. "Make sure the cages stay locked."

_To keep them in or keep us out? _she wondered. She left her question unasked. "Energizing."

Three large, square cages materialized with several snarling occupants within that charged the bars as soon as the stasis field released them.

"That answers that," Tasha said under her breath.

The Antican delegate went to the platform and stooped to inspect the animals. They snapped and gave out high-pitched calls as he neared them. The Antican opened his mouth in what was definitely a smile, exposing curved incisors. "Excellent. They should be fed and watered," he directed.

Tasha swallowed hard. The cargo bay was starting to smell like a zoo. "What do they eat?"

"Anything. They prefer intestines and fatty organs."

The lump of revulsion rose again. "We can provide that."

"Excellent," the delegate said again. He took a deep breath. "It begins to feel more like home. Your human ship is as sanitized as a Selay temple. Without character. Lifeless."

Tasha bristled at the criticism but declined to comment. She wanted to berate him for trapping the doomed beasts that whined in their cages and tell him that the striped furs he was wearing had seen better days, but she bit her tongue. "If you would like to rejoin your party now, I'll show you to your quarters."

"Acceptable."

Tasha led the way out of the cargo bay, sharing a look of vexation with her security officers as the trapped animals began their yapping anew.

* * *

><p>It was a relief to change out of the dress uniform and get back to the bridge. Tasha was as unimpressed with the Selay party as she had been with the Anticans. The two species seemed to have much in common: they were rude and demanding, and expressed matter-of-fact hatred for each other. The Parliament mediators would have their work cut out. She was glad the Selay had asked to be quartered farther away – it would hopefully stave off hostilities.<p>

A mysterious cloudy mass provided momentary interest before they were on their way. Tasha and Data worked to identify it, but it defied categorization. The captain was satisfied with a cursory close sensor pass. Tasha notified Geordi, working on the sensor arrays with Worf. She wished the Klingon were on the bridge so she could vent to him – he would completely understand her distaste. She could hear his voice in her head, calling the unruly delegates beings without honor. As if conjured by her thoughts, Geordi's medical alert came through the tactical panel. Worf was hurt – but how?

She had no time to contemplate it – she was being hailed by one of the civilian cooks. "Galley to Security."

"Yar here."

"Sir, there's a problem in the Antican guest quarters. They sound ready to start a riot."

"I'm on my way. Brief me while I walk."

Tasha's sense of outrage was at maximum by the time she reached the main delegate's cabin. "What seems to be problem?"

The head delegate slammed one clawed paw against the comm. panel. "This thing asked us how we'd like our meat cooked!"

Tasha kept her cool. "That thing is only the tool we use to communicate, as we explained before. The cook in the galley spoke to you."

The Antican gave an angry bark. "You humans love machines! Our communication technology has fur and a mouth, so it looks like what it does."

"To each his own," she replied with a smile.

"We must hunt our meal. Anticans are hunters. You will provide a suitable arena where we can release the animals, chase them, and kill them. They must be alive to be eaten; the blood must run when we bite into their flesh."

The image added to the close, dim, fetid cave that they'd turned their quarters into threatened a revisit from Tasha's lunch. "We will do no such thing."

"I demand it!" the alien howled.

Tasha turned her back on him. "Yar to Riker."

"Riker."

"I could use your assistance with the Antican delegates, sir."

"On my way."

Tasha faced the alien once more. "Calm down, sir. We will find a mutually acceptable solution."

"We are your guests. You insult us with your noncompliance."

"I am sorry, but I will not facilitate bloodsport on this ship. We are on a peaceful mission, conveying you to peace talks."

"Immaterial. Our dietary needs have nothing to do with your mission." The delegate licked his chops. "We have heard of your holodecks. That will provide a fine backdrop for our meal."

Tasha compressed her lips. "Under no circumstances would that be appropriate. This ship is not a slaughterhouse."

He opened his mouth wide in a parody of a smile, exposing the full array of carnivorous fangs inside. "Then why do you have weapons?"

Tasha was about to retort when the door whooshed open for Will. She quickly regained her composure. "Sorry to call you, sir. Not strictly security – it's about the dietary requirements of the Antican delegates."

Will looked disapproving. "I thought that had been taken care of in advance."

"So did we, sir. Their live animals were beamed aboard; we were going to preserve the meat for them but . . . they say we must bring it to them alive."

"Then do so!"

Tasha's face fell as triumph lit the Antican's eyes. "Lt. Yar was . . . confused. We no longer enslave animals for food purposes," Will continued.

"But we have seen humans eat meat!" came the growling reply.

"You've seen something as fresh and tasty as meat, but inorganically materialized out of patterns used by our transporters."

Sounds of disgust came from all the delegates, whose presence had been barely noticeable in the dusky low light. They were ranged about on the floor, sitting physically lower than the alpha in the room in a way that Tasha realized must be deliberate. "Sickening! Barbaric!"

Tasha gave Will a look of pure disbelief.

"Forgive the misunderstanding." With a nod, Will cued Tasha to leave.

As soon as the doors closed, she let the sarcasm fly. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

"It's not our place to judge them by what or how they eat, Lieutenant."

"You do realize you just gave the okay for a live hunt in the holodeck, don't you?"

This brought Will up short. "No, I didn't."

"You better have a perk ready for the poor soul who has to program that, Commander."

A sly smile replaced his momentary consternation. "I think I'm looking at that poor soul."

"Commander, no. Please don't make me. I find it morally reprehensible –"

"I'm kidding, Tasha. I'll make Data do it."

She frowned. "His programming won't allow him to harm living beings."

"He won't be doing the harming. You heard our friend – he'll just be giving them a nice backdrop."

Tasha found Will's amusement irritating, and changed the subject before he could accuse her of insubordination. "How's Worf?"

"Good question." He tapped the wall panel. "Riker to sickbay."

"Troi here."

"How's Lt. Worf?"

"Fine, now. He doesn't remember what happened. But . . ."

"What, Deanna?"

"It's probably nothing. The doctor left without giving him any instructions, so I've been keeping an eye on him until his disorientation fades."

"Can't imagine he's too happy about that."

"So you've met Worf. I should get back to his biobed before he tears off the hood. Troi out."

Will raised his eyebrows at Tasha. "Everything's fine, it seems."

"Good. I've had enough disturbances for one day."

* * *

><p>Much later, Tasha stood by Data as he programmed one of the larger holodecks. The strange malfunctions jumping from system to system that had disabled the warp drive hadn't affected any of the holodecks so far.<p>

"It's barbaric, primitive, and it ought to disqualify them from becoming members of the Federation," Tasha was saying. "I can't believe we're going to be willing participants in their disgusting ritual."

Data tapped at the handheld interface. "It is a backwards notion by human standards, but our policy of noninterference necessitates falling on the side of facilitating the Anticans' normal eating habits."

"It's unconscionable," Tasha fumed. "Those poor animals . . . even if they aren't intelligent, they are alive. They must feel pain. Maybe they've been separated from their family units. It's brutal."

Data gave her a look of sympathy through his lashes. "I agree philosophically, but we seem to have no choice."

Tasha's combadge chirped. "Security alert."

"Report."

"We found two Selay wandering the corridors on deck 16, sir. They claim to have lost their way."

"Return them to their quarters immediately." Tasha tapped her badge and gave Data an exasperated look. "It's been like this all day. The delegates can't behave themselves for two minutes together. I can just imagine what they'll be like at the negotiating table. What a pain."

"I am sorry. You are having a bad day, correct?"

"Yes, Data. That's correct."

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

His innocent query brought a real smile to Tasha's face. "You could come over later."

"Of course."

"And you could do that thing you showed me in the hotel on Danula II."

This arrested Data's typing. "Which thing?"

She sidled closer to him. "That thing when you –"

"Ensign Milovic to Lt. Yar."

Tasha stopped in the motion of putting her arms around Data's waist and tapped her communicator. "Yar."

"Sir, the Anticans have figured out the comm. panel and they're using it to taunt the Selay delegates."

Tasha exploded with a frustrated grunt. She smacked the wall panel. "Computer, limit communications from the Anticans' guest quarters to calls to me and emergencies, clearance code Yar alpha-theta-six."

"Acknowledged."

Tasha looked at Data with regret. "I'd better go check on our guests. Talk to you later."

"Goodbye." He went back to his typing for a second before he thought of a more appropriate parting phrase. "Good luck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm baa-aaaack. Did you miss me? A week of vacation does wonders, especially in beautiful San Francisco, home to the future Starfleet Academy. We just have a pesky post-atomic horror to get through first. So, yes, I know the Antican with the speaking part was called Badar N'D'D. If you think I'm typing that 50 times, you've got another think coming. Words excerpted from _Lonely Among Us _written by D.C. Fontana, before she stormed out the room all, smell ya later, Gene!**


	28. Chapter 28

The malfunctions that were jumping from system to system had somehow disabled warp drive and subspace radio. The Enterprise was dead in the water with no way to call for help or inform anyone of her whereabouts. The captain called the first and second officers to his ready room. Data had sufficient time during the short walk from his post to speculate on several reasons for the systemic problems and discard the most improbable. The randomness of the equipment failures and the lack of connection between them pointed to an intelligent mind at work. And they had two parties of hostile beings aboard who might have a hidden agenda beyond the trip to Parliament. When the captain asked for their theories, Data said as much.

"We have a saboteur aboard," Riker added. Superfluously, Data thought. It was odd that his precise explanations could be misunderstood. Humans were baffling at times.

The captain's mind was racing, and he was becoming impatient with blind alleys as his senior officers discussed the possibility of Ferengi interference. "Can either of you suggest any other suspects?"

"You're sounding like a private eye," Riker remarked with an appreciative grin.

"Inquiry: private eye?" Data found it best to crosscheck outdated colloquialisms with verbal confirmation. His references to those two words used together were all marked archaic.

"A private consulting investigator, Data, who solves crimes," Picard explained.

"Hm. A most interesting occupation."

"In the world of fact, probably not. However, in literature, criminal detection could be a fascinating exercise. The immortal Sherlock Holmes would have an interesting view of our mystery, I believe."

Sherlock Holmes. Data accessed the file. Character created by Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. Nineteenth century Scottish author. Data extracted quotes from the author referring to his fictional crime-solver as an automaton, a walking calculator. The android's interest was afire. There was a plethora of resources to draw upon: primary sources – four novels and 56 stories. Secondary sources based on the character in derivative works, films, serial broadcasts, and holovideos. He would have to plumb the library computer – his available files touched only the tip of a veritable mountain of information. Images: illustrations from the original publications, stills, moving pictures, a top hat, a deerstalker cap, a cane, an Inverness cape. A pipe. Data's eyes were dancing as he raced through the files, his mouth pursed in an O of discovery.

"Mr. Data." The captain's refined voice interrupted the deluge in the positronic brain.

"Sir?"

"Unless you have further insights…"

Will looked from one to the other in pure amusement. Data looked as distracted and excited as a little boy with a new toy, Picard like an indulgent parent.

"No, sir. Recommend that we continue to gather evidence."

"Noted. Dismissed."

Riker and Data went back to their posts, the first officer unabashedly grinning at the android's obvious preoccupation.

"Intriguing…" Data murmured to himself. "Intriguing…"

* * *

><p>There was indeed a mountain of information on Sherlock Holmes, but Data was a sure-footed mountain climber. He began with the primary sources – the novels and stories were the work of mere minutes. Then he digested the extant interviews, newspaper articles, and correspondence with the author about the character. Then studies comparing fiction with fact and the naissance of forensic science. The first films, later films, definitive films. Basil Rathbone. Jeremy Brett. Benedict Cumberbatch. The library computer disgorged untold riches. The Sherlock Holmes legend encompassed fantasy, heroics, superhuman feats, and grandiose schemes by the most nefarious of foil. Data was filled with wonder.<p>

He was stirred to mark the moment. "Second Officer's personal log, stardate 41249.3. I have had what I believe is referred as an epiphany. I have discovered, quite by accident, a muse. A figure to emulate, one that inspires. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. Master of disguise. Amateur violinist. A man of supreme powers of adductive and deductive reasoning and observation and possessed of extraordinary strength, loyal servant to Queen and country and humble champion of the poor and wronged. He found society difficult save for one bosom friend and a paramour whom he referred to as 'the woman,' despite his claims to have never loved. I only regret that I had not heretofore plucked his name from the dross of obscurity and held it to the light." As Data spoke, a London accent crept into his elocution as it took a turn to the ancient and ultra-formal. "I find this fictional man to be as my own kin."

He searched for some outward way to mark his newfound kinship. He wished for a thoughtful gesture with which he could accompany his cogitation, like the stroking of a beard, but Holmes was always depicted as clean-shaven. Perhaps the stoking of a pipe…

"To the replicator!" An unmistakable upper class British accent colored his shout to the empty room. Data set off for the replication center with a flourish of an invisible gentleman's cane.

* * *

><p>Tasha lay on her couch with her feet up on the arm and the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes, soaking in the rest she knew couldn't last. Her security staff had discovered that the Anticans had smuggled weapons onboard. The only pro was that it meant they killed their food animals humanely. The obvious con was that it had escaped her detection. She'd had to search and seize weapons from every single Antican delegate – no mean feat, considering their pungent smell. She planned to search the Selay party, too – they could be hiding tridents under their long robes, for all she knew – but first she was taking a well-deserved break.<p>

They couldn't reach Parliament fast enough, and here they were stuck at impulse power. She couldn't wait to say goodbye to their alien charges. She pressed her hands hard against her eyelids, feeling her own warmth soothe her tired head. Shore leave seemed so long ago and far away. That last night in the hotel, that last reconciliation with Data, the setting sun lighting the sheer curtains with a golden glow. Lying in the arms of the only one who never let her run away, who calmed her fears, who held her close but gave her freedom, who made her want to stay…

"Security alert." The captain's voice over the comm jerked Tasha away from gold-edged memories. She sat up straight.

"Yar."

"Lieutenant, Asst. Chief Engineer Singh has been murdered. I want a full investigation opened immediately."

"Yes, sir." She responded automatically, but her mind was reeling. The first casualty to the crew. The Enterprise's first loss. She felt personally responsible. A member of the engineering staff who should be the farthest from danger – how? Why? She felt ashamed for her indulgent thoughts from a minute before. Here she was thinking of pleasure while a man had died – a man who'd been her responsibility to protect.

She felt herself grow cold at the thought. She would be impeccable in her duty, relentless. Nothing would stop her from finding the killer and bringing him to justice.


	29. Chapter 29

"We have no interest in your ship's problems, Lt. Yar. We are your guests, or have you forgotten?"

The Selay head delegate's voice dripped with self-righteous effrontery, but Tasha thought she could see guilt in his cold, reptilian eyes.

"My memory is fine, sir. I hope yours is, too. Where were you from 1800 hours last night until 0700 hours this morning?"

"That is private."

Tasha folded her arms. "Sir, I am conducting an investigation into a very serious crime. You must account for your whereabouts and actions during the time in question."

The delegate gave an impatient hiss. "Molting."

"What?" Tasha dropped her icy, professional poise for a moment, but immediately picked it back up again. "Explain."

"We Selay molt – we shed our skins from time to time. It is considered bad manners to do so in public. I needed privacy."

Several thoughts flashed through Tasha's mind. Where had he gone? Did anyone see him? Was there a two-meter long discarded skin just lying in a corner somewhere? She shuddered at this last thought. "Can anyone corroborate your story?"

"I told you – it's private."

Tasha rolled her eyes. She was getting absolutely nowhere.

* * *

><p>Data turned over his new creation in his hands. The gooseneck pipe was striking: ebony stem with a caramel bowl and a cream lip, it was elegant and gentlemanly. He was very pleased with his choice; he had deliberated over the options for some time. Now he had to choose tobacco. It wouldn't be real, of course – no doubt real tar would wreak havoc on his micro-hydraulics and servomotors – but it would simulate much of the experience: the smoke and the smell. He practiced a knowing half-smile as he calculated several thousand combinations of flavor and odor to approximate a suitably Holmesian blend.<p>

* * *

><p>Wesley kept his arms over his chest as if he were cold, while he watched Lt. Worf make final checks on the diagnostic terminal in engineering. It felt so strange that Mr. Singh was gone. Wes might have been the last person to speak to him before he was killed. It wasn't as if he'd never known anyone who had died – there was his father, after all. But it still hadn't sunk in that the engineer was really gone.<p>

He thought about talking it over with Lt. Worf, but decided against it. He figured the Klingon's thoughts on death would differ widely from his own. Mr. Singh had died at his post, and then the warp engines had miraculously fixed themselves, he was sure of it. Unless you believed in ghosts, the whole thing seemed pretty out there. Wes wasn't sure there was anyone he could talk to about it who wouldn't dismiss him as nutty.

* * *

><p>After hours of fruitless interrogations, Tasha was ready to throw in the towel. Between the oily evasions of the Selay and the sham ignorance of the Anticans, she wanted to toss the lot of them into the brig and call it a day. The only point the peace delegates agreed on was that they all intended to deceive her as to their real actions overnight. She had very little to present to Riker for the debriefing. She was able to quickly summarize the delegates' vague claims.<p>

Data had had his back to them while she ran through her report. He'd been acting oddly throughout the meeting so far, greeting her with a clipped "cheers" when she'd entered the observation lounge and listening in uncharacteristic total silence. Strangest of all, he was smoking a pipe, wreathing himself in a fragrant white fog. Tasha had never before considered Data eccentric, though she knew some of their colleagues did. Now he was giving her just cause.

He spun his chair to face Will and Tasha as she finished. "One thing is clear – almost all of the peace delegates answered our questions with lies."

Data exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Imprecise, Lieutenant. They omitted certain truths, which in itself tells us something." He smiled knowingly, the smug expression a new one to his crewmates.

It was too much for Tasha. She dropped all semblance of regard for his rank. "We can learn something from nondisclosure?" she asked sarcastically, her hands on her hips.

"Oh," Data breathed condescendingly. "Indubitably, my good woman." He replaced the pipe in his mouth with a clack.

Of all the bizarre conversations she'd had that day, this one took the cake. Tasha looked to Riker with pure confusion. He merely smiled. "It's something the captain mentioned. Sherlock Holmes."

Will leaned back to watch the two officers playfully spar. Data had immersed himself in the role of the incomparable detective, down to vocabulary, accent, and a degagé demeanor. Tasha continued to poke holes in his façade, waving away his pipe smoke as Data circled ponderously around them and letting her exasperation with his behavior show. Will played along – treating the unexplained occurrences on the Enterprise like a mystery novel was as good a way to tackle the problem as any, and as Data concluded, it didn't seem as if the alien delegates had anything to do with them.

"Then we're back to square one," Tasha complained. "We have no leads on Singh's murderer."

"And yet we know his death was not accidental, and that no one has left the ship. Therefore, the killer is still among us," Data replied, gesturing dramatically with his pipe.

"So, what now?"

"Counselor Troi is trying an unorthodox approach to piece together what happened during Dr. Crusher and Lt. Worf's memory lapses yesterday," Will supplied. "It might be our last shot at solving this mystery."

"Our Betazoid counselor is dabbling in the black arts?" Data asked.

"Oh, brother," Tasha muttered. "Commander, if we're done here…"

"Of course, Lieutenant. Dismissed. One word of advice…"

Tasha turned around in front of the door.

Will winked at her. "You may want to read up on Sherlock Holmes."

Shifting her gaze from the grinning first officer to the second officer puffing away on his pipe, she gave a long-suffering sigh and left.

* * *

><p>Tasha sat at her dining table with a cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a padd, reading The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't the first story, but it had the most exciting title, so she started with it. She found herself confused by the setting and the characters, but the first paragraph caught her interest enough to keep going. The narrator was a Dr. Watson, and he called Holmes "the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen," though completely emotionless. No wonder Data was so enthralled. She was yawning as she read – the old-fashioned language was hard to get through, and her brain was already taxed to the limit. She took another sip of coffee.<p>

The door chimed. "Come in," she called.

The doors opened to Data, still in the guise of Holmes, his pipe hanging from his lips and a dreamy, faraway expression on his face.

"Oh, no." Tasha pointed at the pipe. "If you think you're bringing that smelly thing into my cabin…"

Data's face fell. "I can extinguish it," he offered, stepping timidly into the room.

"Why don't you just get rid of it?"

"Because I just obtained it. And Holmes was never without his pipe. But two vices plagued him," Data went on, shifting back into character. "Tobacco and cocaine."

"What?" Tasha laughed despite herself.

"Yes. I was attempting a narcotics-induced stupor. What do you think?" He once again let his face relax into dreamy repose.

"I think you've gone off the deep end. I mean – you're obsessed."

Data was unflappable. The tony accent came back. "My good woman, true observation requires perspicacity that might appear obsessive to the layman, but I assure you, we will not solve this case without a fixation upon detail that approaches mania." He punctuated his speech with a prodigious amount of smoke.

Tasha didn't know whether to laugh, scream, or throw him out. She was exhausted from the interrogations, and just put her head down on her arms. "Data. Lose the damn pipe."

"Ah, yes. I did say I would put it out." He tamped down the tobacco, his pale fingers impervious to the heat, and knocked out the contents into the mechanical reprocessor. "Is that better?"

"Yes," came Tasha's muffled reply.

He crossed over to her and placed a kiss on her hair. His eyes fell on the padd, still bookmarked on the story. "Ah – you are reading one of the few cases when Holmes is bested by his antagonist, in this case, the woman."

She lifted her head and laid her cheek on her arm. "Trying to. The language is weird."

"I thoroughly enjoyed this story – it shows Holmes' admiration for Irene Adler, who will later come to be shown as having married only for convenience."

"Great. Now I don't have to finish reading it."

"No, please do." Data's eyes lit up. "We could act out this story in the holodeck."

Tasha sat up at this. "Now, wait a minute…"

"We would need costumes. And players. Watson, the Bohemian king, the bachelor Godfrey…" He fixed her with an acquisitive look. "You could play Irene."

"I'm no actress."

"It is a splendid idea. Simply ripping," Data went on, the accent back with a vengeance.

"That's it," Tasha said blandly, not bothering to muster the energy to sound indignant. "Out."

"But –"

"Out, Data. Enough."

"But… Holmes was a great admirer of women, and showed quite the chivalrous attitude when a case called for it."

This got a smile. "Oh?"

"Yes. His extraordinary acting abilities made him a passionate lover, despite his natural dispassion."

Tasha's smile grew wider. "Really."

"Lover in the nineteenth century sense, when 'making violent love' meant talking to a lady about her beauty and charms." He came a little closer.

One dark blonde eyebrow shot up. "Did it?"

"The term could be modernized for our purposes." Data had by now come quite close to her, and put an arm around her waist.

She looked up at him – he was obviously still entranced with his new discovery, and his excitement was infectious. "So, you're suggesting we bring Holmes into the bedroom?"

Data's expression was both innocent and knowing at once. "Perhaps."

Tasha got down from her high stool and put her arms around his neck. "You have your part down, but who should I be? What's this Irene like?"

He held her close with one arm, the other hand firmly on the bowl of his pipe. "She is clever, talented, resourceful, witty, brave, graceful, has a 'superb figure,' and 'a face that a man might die for.'"

"Data…" Tasha was glowing with pleasure. "You think I could be someone like that?"

He lowered his head to hers. "Indubitably."

Kissing him was a better pick-me-up than the coffee. Tasha broke away and tugged on his neck. "Well, my dear sir," she said, trying an accent that was a cross between the captain's real one and Data's pretend one, "Off to the bedroom we go."

"Brilliant."

"But, Data…" Her own emphatic voice was back. "No pipe."

He dropped the offending article on the table and picked her up, eliciting a giggle that sounded carefree.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More quotes from D.C. Fontana and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The research I did for this chapter! Holy cow! I had _no idea _that the Mormons are the bad guys in the first Sherlock Holmes story. Crazy! And whereas some episodes get worse the more you watch them, that scene when Data first pretends to be Holmes gets funnier every single time. "Something was afoot!" "_Afoot?_"**


	30. Chapter 30

Data would have been willing to play Sherlock Holmes all night, but though she found the exaggerated confidence piquant, Tasha finally pleaded with him just to be himself. It was hard to get in the mood with a Victorian lover who praised her "rosebud fingertips" and "gilly flower hair." She thought she still detected traces of an antiquated delicacy nonetheless, but she didn't belabor the point. If Data was willing to dial it down but not off, she could live with that. She chalked it up to being another variation on a program that seemed to have no end to its variety.

His programming always included cuddling afterwards. She felt much more relaxed, the tension physically worked out. "So tell me, which story should I be reading? There are so many, and I can't take them all in at once like you do."

"_A Study in Scarlet_ is the logical place to begin, as it is the first story."

"I saw that one. It looked long. I don't know that I have the time to read it." She stretched and snuggled closer, her head on his bare shoulder.

"I could read it aloud to you."

"You would do that? Sounds like fun – let me get my padd."

"No need. Chapter one – Mr. Sherlock Holmes. In the year 1878 I took my degree…."

Data took on the role of Watson as narrator without hesitation, and as new characters appeared, he switched from voice to voice as easily as a one-man holo-vid. Tasha looked up at him to see if he was enjoying himself as much as she was, but if he had any self-satisfaction, it was undetectable. It was the most entertaining bedtime story she'd ever heard. She wrapped her arms around his and closed her eyes, taken away to the grimy London streets and disorderly bachelor rooms at 221B Baker Street.

* * *

><p>Troi's debriefing the next morning brought a twist worthy of Doyle into the investigation – her conjecture was that an alien consciousness had inhabited Dr. Crusher and Lt. Worf. Data was still in full-on Holmes mode, and Tasha was a new convert. She found his playacting sweet rather than annoying, even as Picard exchanged looks of disbelief with Riker, and Crusher and Troi tried to conceal their mirth.<p>

"We listened to those transcripts over and over. They point clearly to the presence of an outside influence on Worf and me," Beverly reiterated.

"The question is, who or what has the power to do such a thing and a motive for killing Mr. Singh?" Picard asked.

"Could it be some kind of sophisticated technology? Our ship's systems –" Riker was cut off by Worf's voice over the comm.

"Bridge to Captain: you're needed here immediately."

The senior officers hurried out of the captain's ready room and took their duty stations. Wesley got up from ops to let Data sit and wrestle with the unresponsive controls. Tasha touched commands in vain on the tactical console. Sensors were down, as well as helm control and warp engines.

The captain seemed eerily calm. He directed Geordi to recheck his instruments and as if there had never been a malfunction, every system was back online. With an uncharacteristically casual clap of his hands, Picard ordered the ship to come about. It gave everyone pause. Geordi questioned the order, but complied. Will got to his feet and Worf joined Tasha at tactical, almost as if they'd gone to an alert. It was instinctive – something felt distinctly off. The captain behaved as if there were nothing unusual about his order.

Riker finally voiced the questions on everyone's mind, challenging the order to travel back the way they'd come. He opened the floodgates; Deanna and Data spoke up as well. Picard dismissed their concerns with such uncanny calm; any observer could see that something was amiss. But the crew obeyed, a feeling of unease settling over the bridge.

Tasha didn't have long to contemplate the situation. "O'Brien to Security Chief: we have an altercation in the – ach, get back! – Selay delegates' quarters."

"Security team to VIP quarters. I'm on my way, O'Brien. Yar out."

She heard the trouble long before she saw it. Hisses and growls carried down the corridor. She broke into a run. Soon, she saw them – all five Selay delegates clawing at the head Antican with two security officers and a harried O'Brien holding them off. "Stop! What's the problem here?"

The aliens all began shouting at once. "He's contaminated our deck with his filth!" "The ship has reversed course – your computer confirmed it. I demand to know why!" "We demand new rooms!"

"Enough!" Tasha stopped short of pulling a phaser on them. To the Selay, "Return to your quarters immediately."

"We cannot. This putrid thing has fouled them with his stench."

The Antican roared and lunged at the Selay. The security officers held him back.

"Stop, or I will send you both to the brig! I will not tolerate further violence on this ship!" Tasha snapped. She glared from one to the other. "Now then, the environmental controls can be adjusted to increase ventilation in your rooms. If the result is unsatisfactory, I will consider your request for a change."

The Selay head delegate hissed discontentedly, but took a step back. "Satisfactory. For the moment."

"Come with me," Tasha ordered the Antican. "See that they go inside their rooms and stay there," she directed over her shoulder.

"You're welcome," Miles said sarcastically to the two officers. He walked away, grumbling, "Should've been at my post fifteen minutes ago."

Tasha led the Antican to the turbolift, none too thrilled at the prospect of being in close quarters with him again. "We will convey you to Parliament. The captain has ordered a change in course, but we will get you there."

"I begin to suspect that these delays are deliberate," the delegate snarled, "and that you intend to undermine our bid to join the Federation."

"On the contrary." They reached the turbolift and Tasha took a deep breath in anticipation before getting on. "We are completely impartial, and these delays have been out of our control."

He gave a skeptical growl and snuffle. "What kind of a people are you, that a simple mission to transport a delegation to a mediation site is beyond the ability of your mightiest ship?"

Tasha clenched her fists. The doors opened and she led the way out.

"I insist on speaking to your captain," he went on with a sneer.

Tasha spun on her heel. "Mr. Delegate, you will address your concerns to me or the first officer. The captain has ordered a change in course, and it is not your place to question his order. I suggest you settle in for the ride." She spun back around and stalked off down the hall. When they reached the delegate's quarters, she was still reigning in her anger. "Your quarters, sir. If I catch you antagonizing the Selay party again, I will confine you to them. Understood?"

She left without waiting for his response.

* * *

><p>The tension on the bridge had not eased when Tasha retook her post. The captain had an odd, bemused expression on his face, a stark contrast to the worried looks of the counselor and first officer on either side.<p>

"Everything all right with our guests, Lieutenant?" Riker asked.

"Another close call, sir. Each side seems to be escalating their threat to the other." Tasha self-consciously cleared her throat. "The head Antican delegate expressed concern over our change in course."

A beat while they all waited for the captain's response, but he didn't so much as twitch, as if he hadn't heard her.

"Noted, Lieutenant," Will finally replied.

None of the usual small talk and bantering broke the silence on the bridge. When the captain announced he would be in his ready room and went away, a strange smile affixed to his face, there was palpable relief.

Riker circulated through the bridge, stopping by all senior officers and murmuring in their ears. When he reached tactical, he bent close to Tasha and whispered, "Take your lunch break in the south observation lounge."

She nodded silently. She almost preferred the warring delegates to this silent, amorphous foe.

* * *

><p>The senior officers gathered at 1200 hours, all as disinterested in food as Data. Once the CMO arrived, Will got started. "All right, Deanna, tell everyone your concerns."<p>

"I should preface by saying they're just that – concerns. I don't have any evidence beyond a strong feeling."

"A strong feeling of what?" asked Beverly.

"That the duality I sensed in you and Worf is in the captain now. And more, that it seems to have-" She broke off.

"What, Deanna?" the doctor prodded.

The Betazoid looked pained, and turned to Will as if for reassurance. He nodded at her. "It seems to have the upper hand."

"What are you saying, that the captain is possessed?" Tasha asked incredulously.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying we may not be able to trust him – he may not be acting on his own."

This sent a current of electricity through the room. "If we can't trust the captain, what do we do?" asked Tasha.

"I'll be the one to put it out there," Geordi responded. "Are we talking mutiny?"

They all looked to Riker. "I want this to be above board and on the record," he said. "We have to make the proper logs."

"That the captain will be able to access," Data pointed out.

"I know that. We have to take that risk. I want to follow protocol to the letter."

"Then we'll need more than a vague impression that something is wrong," Tasha insisted.

"It's not vague," countered Deanna.

Tasha's combadge came alive. "Security alert."

She tsked in frustration. "Yar."

"Sir, the Selay delegates just left the replication center. We checked the logs for the last items created: some kind of powered nooses. They could be used as weapons."

"Unbelievable," she breathed. "I'll go and speak to them. Yar out." She rose and faced Riker. "Whatever you all decide to do, Commander, you have my full support."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Tasha left the tense room. She felt deeply disturbed by the turn of events. If the captain was suffering under a foreign influence – if – shouldn't they help him, instead of conspiring against him? He would never willingly harm anyone on the crew or the ship herself. If there were a way to reach him, they should try to find it.

At the same time, whatever-it-is that was able to jump from person to person and system to system had killed. The thought was chilling. Singh had been working on restoring warp power to get them back on course to Parliament. Maybe the intruder had wanted to go back to the energy cloud so badly that it was willing to kill to get its way. In that case, the captain's life might be in danger if they fought it or tried to thwart its desires.

She wished for Data's silly Sherlock Holmes now, anything to brighten the dark picture in her mind. The captain had been so much more than a leader already – he was a mentor, even a father figure. To contemplate mutiny after he had given her her first chance to serve as a senior officer seemed unethical.

She reached the Selay delegates' quarters, the setting beyond familiar to her now, and pressed the announcement button. There was no answer. She pressed it again without a result. She gave a disgusted grunt. "Computer, locate the Selay delegation."

"Unable to comply."

Tasha wiped a hand over her forehead and through her hair. "Computer, what is the last known location of the Selay delegation?"

"The last known location of the Selay delegation is deck ten, forward lounge."

_Great. Now I'm on a wild goose chase,_ she thought. _Make that a wild snake chase._


	31. Chapter 31

An instant after reaching Ten-forward, Tasha saw that the Selay delegates were no longer there. She exited and touched the wall panel outside. "Computer, locate all Selay on board."

"Unable to comply."

"State the problem."

"Internal sensors are running in diagnostic mode."

_Ugh. Someone must have started a full diagnostic when they went down._ "Show last known location."

The panel lit up with the codes. The party had split up, but they had only passed through areas they were allowed to access. She didn't have a good reason to round them up; for all she knew, they could have just gotten bored. She decided to eat lunch and let it go. According to Data, the Selay weren't interested in harming the ship. Wherever the delegates were, they couldn't cause too much trouble.

She entered Ten-forward, ordered and took a seat at an empty table, nodding distractedly at the crewpersons who waved at her. She was nearly finished when Data and Geordi came in. Geordi went to the bar to order while Data sat down across from her.

"What was the upshot?" she asked quietly, with a sidelong glance to check if anyone was listening.

"We have insufficient evidence to warrant any action at this time," Data replied, his voice as low. "Cdr. Riker and Dr. Crusher will request that the captain submit to psychological exams in the hope that they will provide the clear medical evidence required to proceed."

"And if that doesn't work? What if he refuses?"

"Lacking any evidence, they put their careers in jeopardy if they continue to pursue this course of action."

"As do we, if we support them."

Geordi joined them. He pushed pasta around his plate with his fork before dispiritedly taking a bite. "The whole thing reeks," he murmured.

Data took a deep sniff. "Tomatoes, onions, garlic – I can detect no foul –"

"This situation, Data. It's an expression," Geordi corrected patiently. "I'm not convinced that the captain has been compromised. Yes, we're going back to the energy cloud when we're already behind schedule. It's odd. But I'm not thrilled to risk my good record on a hunch."

"Do we wait until the captain does something …" Tasha cut herself off. "I can't even say it. The captain would never willingly harm us."

"Counselor Troi contends that his will has been superceded, and he will become dangerous," Data replied.

"She said that?" Tasha asked.

Geordi and Data exchanged a glance. "Yes."

"I can't believe it. I trust Troi, but . . . I don't know what to believe."

"Picard to Security Chief."

Tasha tapped her combadge. "Yar here."

"Lieutenant, I have ordered medical exams for the first officer, counselor, and the CMO. If they do not report to sickbay within the hour, I order you to escort them there."

Tasha blanched. "Yes, sir."

"Picard out."

The three officers exchanged looks of concern. "It didn't work," said Geordi. "It backfired."

"So, what now?" Tasha asked in a whisper.

Data's expression was flatly neutral. "We wait."

What they were waiting for was left hanging in the air, but it was on all of their minds. Until the captain posed a direct threat to the ship, their hands were tied.

* * *

><p>Riker and Crusher sat side by side before two monitors in sickbay, both rigged with neural sensors and watching images flash by.<p>

"This is ludicrous," Beverly said quietly.

Will shrugged. "I know, but we're going to follow protocol to the letter. He ordered psych tests, we're taking psych tests."

The images continued to cycle, for Beverly, pictures of her husband, her son, her grandmother, Jean-Luc, interspersed with scenes from Earth, Starfleet medical, and the colony at Arvada III. "I wish it would tell us we're crazy," she went on, her voice almost inaudible.

"Come on, Doctor."

"It's better than the alternative, Will. I wish someone could tell me this whole thing is a delusion."

Will didn't take his eyes off the screen, but he reached out and squeezed her arm.

"That… thing that was inside my mind… I didn't remember until Troi hypnotized me, but it all came back. It was strong. I wanted to fight it, but I couldn't. It's as if I were trapped beneath it, screaming with my mouth open but no sound coming out, like a nightmare."

The images stopped, and a flashing sign indicated the end of the test. Beverly peeled the sensors off her temples, her vision blurring. "And now that thing has Jean-Luc trapped, and it doesn't want to let him go. I'm scared, Will." She blinked away her tears. "Scared for him, and for us."

Will took her hand. He wanted to reassure her, wanted to find the right words to assure her that they could master the situation. He was sure Picard would have those words at the ready. But her serious blue eyes made any easy platitudes evaporate. Will felt scared for them, too, but knew he couldn't give voice to those fears. If they successfully relieved the captain of duty, he wouldn't have the luxury of showing any vulnerability when he took command.

The moment passed. Beverly gently withdrew her hand and wiped her eyes. "I'll upload the results to the computer and have Deanna process them." She wrapped her lab coat tightly around herself and stepped away from Will, still sitting silently, his bright blue eyes unsure.

* * *

><p>Deanna finished downloading the psychological reports to a portable isolinear drive. "Congratulations," she announced dryly. "Not only are we all healthy, we're all sane." She pulled the clear lozenge from the interface and handed it to Will.<p>

"No, give it to me," Beverly said resolutely.

Will held on. "You can back me up."

"No, I want to talk to him alone."

Deanna caught on right away. "Do you think you can reach him?"

"I have to try." Beverly's mouth hardened. "This isn't just the captain we're talking about. Jean-Luc is one of my oldest friends. If there's any way to reach him through that…the invader, I want to find a way. Maybe plotting to relieve him of duty won't serve us. Maybe he can fight back – what if someone had realized that I wasn't myself? Maybe I would've had a fighting chance to get free." Her voice grew more impassioned as she went on. "We don't know what we're dealing with here. His life might be in danger."

"Then you shouldn't go alone," Will said firmly.

"I insist. If he becomes violent, I'll call for help. But I want to try to connect with him on my own."

Will looked to Deanna, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. He handed the drive to Beverly. "Be careful. You're going into this blind."

Beverly nodded. She set off with an outward confidence that Deanna felt was forced.

The Betazoid turned to Will. "I wish there was more I could do."

"What you can do is keep monitoring the captain. See if you can get past the part he's closed off."

"I'll try." She longed to seek solace in an embrace, just for a moment, and she could see and feel that Will was fighting the same urge. But they both had a professional duty that took precedence. "I'm going to cancel my appointments for the afternoon. I think I'll be more useful on the bridge."

"Good idea. I'll see you when I get there." Will departed, but he didn't go straight to the bridge. Instead, he walked the corridors, taking the turbolift down and marching through the halls, seeking to clear his mind. He didn't share Beverly's optimism. The invisible enemy had been able to effortlessly control the actions of two officers, disable the ship and kill one of her crew. What would stop it if anything stood in its way? The wiser course might be to let events play out. When they reached the energy cloud, they could take it from there.

* * *

><p>Beverly left the captain's ready room, shaken to the core. She had tried to talk to the man she knew, and instead had touched the fringes of a presence too overwhelming to logically consider. It had to be the alien she'd spoken to. The Jean-Luc she knew couldn't be capable of that callous disregard, followed by a beatific smile as he described the "glorious adventure" that awaited them. Them meaning not the two in the room, but the two in his mind.<p>

Troi turned to her as soon as Beverly appeared on the bridge, her face frozen with tightly contained fear. "Doctor…"

"My office."

Troi rose and joined Crusher in the turbolift. "Deck 12." She was rocked by the emanations of fright and mystification from the CMO. "What happened?"

"He admitted it. He said that there was more there than just him. He called himself 'us'. You were right – something has possessed the captain." Beverly's breath came out in a shudder. "It's taken him over and he's not even frightened. He's 'elated'."

"Slow down."

"Deanna, it's joined with his mind. I thought he'd be buried under that thing, but now I'm not sure. Jean-Luc is so willful – I don't think he's been subsumed. I think that thing has convinced him to go back to the energy cloud."

"What exactly did he say?"

"'Soon we'll both be home.' What could that mean?"

"I don't know," Deanna replied seriously, "But I don't think it can be good."


	32. Chapter 32

The security team reached the first officer's location ahead of the chief. Riker looked as angry as he'd sounded over the comm. He was rubbing his neck where a red welt was coming up on his skin. "Lieutenant, I want a 24-hour guard on the delegates' quarters."

"Yes, sir." Tasha pointed a finger at the head Selay delegate, who was trying to conceal something in his robes. "What is that?"

"I am happy to sssssee you?"

"I thought you confiscated their weapons," Will said testily.

"I did, sir." She put out her hand. "Let's have it."

With a hiss of protest, the delegate handed over the noose by its handle. "It is not a weapon. It is a tool for –"

"Save it." To her team, Tasha said, "See them to their quarters and take first shift on the door."

"Aye, sir."

Tasha turned to Will. "You should stop by sickbay, Commander."

"I suppose." They set off together in the opposite direction from the delegation. "I was just there for some pointless exams."

Tasha hesitated. She didn't want him to think she was being critical. "Do you have another plan?"

Will shot her a look that said he heard her unspoken thought – he and the doctor had failed. "Yes. It's called wait and see."

* * *

><p>Tasha and Will were like counterweights pacing in opposite directions, Tasha along the long wooden expanse of the tactical console, Will in the space between command and navigation. The doctor sat perched at a command station, as visibly unnerved as Deanna was. Geordi's reports from the helm betrayed his agitation by a break in his voice and the absence of his customary commentary and asides. Only Data and Worf seemed unperturbed, the Klingon standing stoically with his arms folded as they came into visual range of the energy cloud.<p>

When the captain emerged from his ready room, the tension on the bridge was at its apex, but the officers muffled it with icy professionalism. Picard stared out at the flickering, translucent expanse of swirling energy in the viewscreen before announcing that their suspicions were correct, and a sentient being was among them, inadvertently abducted when they'd first passed through the edge of the cloud.

Having their suspicions confirmed eased the tension for none. It was driven home that their commanding officer was under the power of an alien, and that put them all at his/their mercy unless someone acted decisively and soon.

Geordi watched and listened as the alien spoke through Picard. He was looking for any visual indication that the foreign presence was detectable – if they could detect it, maybe they could eradicate it without harming the captain.

Deanna tried to reach Jean-Luc through the usurper; Will tried as well, treading carefully. But the captain went on as blithely as if they hadn't spoken.

Data was quick to discern the intent behind the invader's oblique words about their plans. He attempted to reason with the combined being that wanted to explore space without the encumbrance of a ship or a body. The alien that had been content to live in its energy cloud home had joined with Picard the explorer, and had fused their desires together. It was an untenable proposition, one that might bring the end of the Picard they knew.

At last, Will seemed to come to a decision. "Captain, do you hear me?" he demanded.

"Sir, I see no way for you to journey with an energy form," Data said firmly.

The combined entity that addressed them was aware of Starfleet protocol and impervious to their appeals. It tendered Jean-Luc's resignation without remorse.

Beverly took the final step over the brink, once it became clear that all options had been exhausted and there was no reasoning with the possessed man. She relieved him of duty, citing his mental incapacity.

But it did not matter, for in a moment, the world went dark.

* * *

><p>Noise and light. One light. Brighter than all the others, obscuring the rest of the visual noise with the ocular equivalent of a scream. Paralysis. A cold fire shooting from the helm to his body, overloading his neural implants. Was this how Singh had died? Was this how he would die, too?<p>

Geordi was only vaguely aware of shouts from his crewmates. The glow he'd caught a glimpse of when the invader had taken Worf, and even more briefly, when it had taken the captain… he was inside it now. And terrified.

There was pain. The fear made the pain more severe. And as the glow seemed to lift away from the console and envelop him completely, cycling round and round and through his body, disorientation. Geordi lost the sensation of sitting at his post and raising his hands protectively, instinctively; he was spinning in empty space, engulfed by the cold fire.

And then, slowly, with tingling aftershocks, it left him. A whimpering moan escaped his lips. He was half thrown out of his seat. He tried to straighten and moaned again.

"Geordi…" Data was by his side, supporting him upright.

The android took in the situation on the bridge. Riker, Crusher and Troi had collapsed on the deck, but had their eyes open. Worf and Tasha were leaning two-handed on the tactical console, but were also conscious. The officers at the aft station were laid out on the deck as well.

"All decks: report," Data ordered. There was silence, save for a few feeble groans. "Computer, status report."

"A ship-wide surge of energy has been recorded at all stations. Systems are functioning within normal parameters."

Data picked up Troi and set her petite body in her command chair, where she folded at the waist, holding her head in her hands. He turned to help the doctor, struggling to get to her feet. "Computer, check life signs of all passengers and crew and report status," Data ordered.

Will accepted his hand and staggered up.

"Majority of passengers and crew exhibit signs of trauma. One crewmember deceased and in cryo-stasis. Captain Picard is not aboard."

"Commander." Data waited for Will to ease himself into the captain's chair. "Are you able to speak?"

A grunt.

Data moved to the aft stations and began pulling out seats for the stunned crew and helping them to sit. He finally turned his attention to the two at tactical. Tasha had slumped over the console. Data came close. "Are you all right?"

A whimper.

He kept one hand on her back. "Lt. Worf?"

The Klingon seemed to be recovering more quickly than his human colleagues. He raised his dark head with effort.

"I couldn't help him. I couldn't stop him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Words taken directly from the teleplay by D.C. Fontana.**


	33. Chapter 33

Dr. Crusher replaced the medical tricorder in the emergency kit and slid it back into its storage bin. She closed the aft panel. "No lingering effects that I can find. Everyone checks out, Will."

He sat in the captain's chair, his mouth a thin line, and ignored her lapse in protocol. Technically, he was in command, but it was a lousy way to get what he'd aspired to achieve a few years down the line. He wasn't yet ready for anyone to call him captain.

"Mr. Data, have our sensors picked up any sign of the captain?"

"Negative. If the captain is out there, he has merged with the energy cloud." The android glanced back before going on. "No life signs."

"Can you increase the range and sensitivity of the scanners?"

"Yes, sir."

Will looked to Deanna and for a moment, his trepidation washed over her. "Counselor?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I can't sense any sentient life out there, at least, nothing I recognize as the captain."

"Riker to transporter chief."

"Aye, sir."

"Any progress on retrieving the last coordinates in the log?"

"I'm sorry, sir. The transporter controls weren't accessed conventionally. The alien somehow interfaced directly with the computer. We can't retrace his steps."

"Lt. Yar, take a look and see if there's anything he might have missed."

"Aye, sir." Tasha headed for the turbolift.

* * *

><p>The energy beams the alien had unleashed had been more frightening than painful. If she hadn't been blinded and immobilized, Tasha would've thrown herself bodily in the captain's way. Anything to prevent this… this limbo. Physically, she felt fine. Emotionally, she was numb. She couldn't believe that the captain had left them voluntarily. He would never have abandoned them on purpose.<p>

She entered transporter room two. "Chief Ryder."

"Lieutenant." He stepped aside.

Tasha took his place at the control console and tapped through the logs, quickly checking the sensor records using standard commands. She made a second pass using more unconventional methods, trying back doors, searching secondary and backup systems, looking for anything resembling the last coordinates: an echo, an afterimage, a fragment.

"You know your way around that system, Lieutenant."

Tasha glanced up. "I've spent some time with transporter technology." She went back to her task. "Fat lot of good it's doing me right now. Do you think it's worth it to manually check the targeting scanners?"

"It can't hurt. I'll send crews to the sensor arrays."

"Sensor maintenance – that's where all the trouble began. I'd also like to check emitter pad arrays for any residual readings or the direction of the foci."

"Not manually…"

"No." Tasha leveled a serious gaze at the chief. "But I wouldn't hesitate to put on an EV suit if it meant getting the captain back."

* * *

><p>Beverly's face was drawn. "Commander, I'd like to head back to sickbay. I should be there in case anyone suffered a more severe reaction to the energy beams."<p>

"Agreed."

As the turbolift doors closed and the car rushed down, she tapped her combadge. "Dr. Crusher to Ensign Crusher."

"Mom."

"Are you all right?"

"Do you know what that was? I couldn't see…couldn't move…."

"Wes, are you all right?"

"I'm fine now. I just want to know what happened."

"I'll explain later. Please stay in our quarters. Crusher out."

She wasn't sure why she wanted him to stay inside, or what she needed to protect him from now – the danger was ostensibly gone. It had taken the most crucial person on the ship and fled. She had probably posed a greater danger to her son when she'd been possessed. But she'd gone with the impulse – she felt better knowing exactly where he was.

Beverly slumped against the humming wall, lights flashing as the decks swept by. The doors opened. She came to herself and walked out, her feet leading the way automatically. She slowed as she neared sickbay, stretching out the walk as long as she could. She needed a moment to think.

"Doctor," Selar greeted her when she arrived. "We have reports of momentary incapacity from personnel on all decks. I believe everyone on board was affected. We have some minor injuries – I've treated two crewpersons for lacerations and one of the cooks for second-degree burns."

"Thank you, doctor. Are you all right?"

Selar raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. The sensation was … fascinating. Do you know its cause?"

Beverly looked at the Vulcan blankly, feeling as if she were barely inside her own skin. "Yes." She touched the comm. panel. "Sickbay to bridge. Commander, I think a general announcement about the energy beams would help reassure everyone on the ship. Please direct anyone who needs help to sickbay."

"Yes, doctor. Attention all hands: this is Cdr. Riker."

Wesley looked up from the personal monitor in his quarters at the announcement over the comm. His mother hadn't sounded like herself – he hoped she hadn't been attacked again by whatever had killed Mr. Singh. He was fine with staying in his room. He still felt shaken by the strange events of the past day.

"An intruder was able to spread an energy assault throughout the Enterprise. There appear to be no long-term aftereffects. If you are experiencing a problem, report to sickbay. Otherwise, return to your posts."

On the bridge, Will looked at Deanna. She gave him a nod. It didn't diminish the indecision and helplessness she felt from him, but he concealed the feelings perfectly. No observer would notice that he felt torn. Only his eyes acknowledged that he needed her support.

* * *

><p>Beverly couldn't quite focus. She looked in Selar's general direction. "I'll be in my office."<p>

"Yes, doctor. Are you feeling all right?"

Beverly wasn't sure how to answer. She gave an abortive shake of her head and retreated into the half-exposed room. She sat at her desk, staring ahead without seeing.

She went back over the sequence of events in her mind. Was there anything she could have done differently? What if she had sedated him, consequences be damned, until they'd found a way to separate him from the alien entity? But no, she wouldn't treat anyone against his will. And who knows how he would have reacted to medicine with that thing sharing his body? After all, he had beamed himself into a cloud. His physiology must have changed. The Jean-Luc she knew would never have committed such an inexplicable act.

Again, she remembered his altered voice, the ecstatic expression on his face, when he admitted that he was not alone. A sound escaped her. It was almost beginning to sink in. Jean-Luc was gone. He'd been snatched by an alien and now he was gone. What a strange way to have one's hopes for the future dashed…

Hopes for what, exactly? Her feelings were all selfish. She didn't care about the ship losing her captain. She'd lost her friend. Not just a friend, but a man who'd been close to Jack, a tie to the past and a line to the future, now severed. Now Walker Keel was the only one left of the trio who'd bonded so tightly with each other on the Stargazer, and had blundered their way into her life when she was a headstrong, sharp-tongued twenty-year old. That was twenty years ago… Unlike the series of coincidences that had brought Jean-Luc into her life then, the recrossing of their paths now had been deliberate. She wanted to serve with him. For reasons… too many reasons to consider. Some she wasn't ready to consider.

And it was too late now. One by one, Starfleet was picking off the men who had meant the most in her life. Walker was the captain of the Horatio. Maybe he could use a new CMO. Once the shock wore off, the Enterprise was going to be too painful a place to live. Not when her halls and spaces held memories of the man Beverly was integrating into her life once more… had been. Had hoped to have been. Not when the Jean-Luc she knew would become a ghost haunting those rooms.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting and staring at nothing. She checked the time – nearly an hour since Jean-Luc had left them to pursue an impossible dream.

"He's gone."

The sound of her own voice couldn't pierce the shock that still blanketed her.

"Snap out of it, Beverly. He's gone."


	34. Chapter 34

"Mr. Data is not correct this time. The captain beamed himself into space. He's dead." Worf spoke with a stubborn finality, seated at ops.

"You saw the giant P on the helm. Explain that," Tasha countered.

A low growl was her reply.

"And what about Troi's feeling that he was out there, and that he came here?" Geordi demanded.

"I do not share their optimism."

"He went to you first, Worf," Tasha remonstrated.

The Klingon looked less certain. "What if it's the invader again?"

Tasha looked out at the glowing, purplish mass in the viewscreen. "Troi thinks it's the captain. Data thinks there's a chance we can get him back. That's good enough for me."

"Me, too," Geordi agreed.

A call came over the comm. "Security alert."

"Yar here."

"You'd better come quickly, Lieutenant. We have a major problem at the Selay quarters."

"I'm on my way. Worf, you have the bridge."

The turbolift traveled down to VIP accommodations, Tasha pacing inside. If Data thought the captain could be rescued, he was as good as rescued in her mind. She didn't believe for one minute that he'd beamed himself out there on purpose. It must have been the entity's fault. If anyone could find a way to get the captain out of the ship's circuits using the transporters, it was Data. And a good thing, too, her heart had been in her throat when the first officer had ordered them back underway.

She met the security team outside the Selay's suite of rooms. The problem was immediately evident. "Is that what it looks like?"

The crewman grimaced. "It's blood, sir."

His teammate added, "What's worse, we can only locate four of the Selay delegates. They're all inside."

Tasha shuddered and overrode the lock on the door. "Head delegate," she greeted.

The aliens looked as shaken as four cold-blooded, dead-eyed beings could. The hood around the head delegate's face pulsated. "Well? Where is he?"

"Computer, scan the ship for Selay life signs."

"Detecting four Selay onboard."

Tasha folded her arms. "What happened?"

It was impossible to read the reptilian facial expression. "What happened when?"

She reran the events of the past hour in her mind. Everyone on the ship had been disabled by the energy burst, including the guards on the door. She put the question to her team. "What happened when the energy beam hit?"

The two shared a quick, uncomfortable look. "They must've come to before we did, sir. When we checked the rooms, they were all empty. We went chasing all over the ship while the locators came back to full power. When we finally rounded them up, we found… that puddle."

Tasha stepped close to him. "And when were you planning to tell me?"

"We didn't think…" he blushed. "We decided not to report it until we found the whole party, sir."

"Crewman, it's your duty to report–"

She was cut off by a strangled voice over the comm. "Head chef to security chief."

"Go ahead."

"I have a problem. _Hey, get that out of my face, you…_ A serious problem. A two-meter, dismembered fiasco."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. The Antican party is asking me to broil what looks to me like the evidence in a murder. _Quiet, you cannibals! You think you can lie right to my face!_"

"Don't let them leave. Security team three to the galley, on the double. I'll meet you there." She turned to the head Selay delegate. "This is what your petty squabbling has led to. I can't protect your party if you insist on looking for trouble. You are confined to quarters for the remainder of the trip."

The doors closed on the hissing protests of the Selay. She threw her hands up as she walked away, and tried to remind herself that this was her dream job.

* * *

><p>Beverly replaced the probe in her tricorder and patted the miniature knee of the red-haired girl on the biobed. "The boo-boo is all gone, Alexandra. You can get down now."<p>

The child held up her doll, a tribble with a poufy tail.

Beverly dutifully scanned it. "No boo-boos here, either. You're both fine."

"Thank you, Doctor," her mother said, scooping up her daughter.

"Thank you," piped Alexandra.

"You're welcome."

The sickbay door opened, and Beverly caught her breath. The new patient was flanked by Deanna and Data, and waved off the latter's proffered arm with obvious irritation. "I told you, I'm feeling better by the second."

"Jean-Luc." Beverly looked from Troi to Data, her mouth slightly open. "But how…"

"The captain's molecules were still in the pattern buffer. When the alien interfaced with the console, he beamed out only the captain's energy," Data explained.

"Is that possible?"

"Theoretically, yes, for a being that could manipulate energy in a biological form as easily as it does in a computer."

"If you think about it, humans generate a good deal of energy: EM signals, heat…" Deanna offered.

"Human thought is largely made up of electrons firing between neural synapses," Data continued. "But the majority of his corporal form was left behind. Once Capt. Picard reintegrated himself in the data stream, we simply completed the rematerialization cycle."

"I don't remember any of that," Jean-Luc muttered.

"What do you remember?" asked Beverly.

He searched her blue eyes; there seemed to be more to that question than what was on the surface. "Not very much. It's all… vague."

"Doctor, you should check the captain for cellular degradation. His body was held in suspension for over an hour," Data suggested gently.

"Yes, of course." She came back to herself with a little shake of her head and scanned Jean-Luc.

"Would you allow me to hypnotize you, sir?" Deanna asked. "It might restore your memory."

He looked distinctly skeptical.

"It may help us understand what happened," she prodded.

"There is widespread cellular degradation, but I can treat it," Beverly announced. "Nurse, prepare the hypospray."

"Yes, doctor."

"No, I don't want to be hypnotized," Jean-Luc said firmly.

"Sir, it might be a great help in understanding what happened to the ship and to you," Deanna replied.

"The answer is no."

"Sir." Data spoke before the counselor could protest again. "There is the matter of your resignation from Starfleet. It must be rescinded."

"My what?"

"Sir, the details might come back to you, if you allow me to access those memories," Deanna insisted.

He compressed his mouth into a thin line. "I'll consider it."

"Now, my patient needs to rest." Beverly stepped between the captain and the other officers. "I'll let you know when he's available for more questions."

"Of course, Doctor." Deanna gave Data a pointed look. "We'll be on the bridge."

Beverly turned back and let her gaze wander over Jean-Luc, taking in details as if she could visually ensure that it was truly and only him, that he was all there. She put cool fingers on his carotid artery, more as an excuse to touch him than anything else. His pulse was steady and slow. They stood squarely eye-to-eye. She took her fingers away, brushed his cleft chin with one knuckle. "I thought…" She began again. "I was sure I'd never see you again. I was thinking how sad Walker was going to be when he heard the news."

His grey eyes held her gaze. _Just Walker? _"It was very strange. I remember wanting to beam out there, and not being troubled by what I would leave behind. It was as if I were going home, instead of leaving it." His eyebrows went up. "Of course it wasn't my home. But his influence was so strong. I felt… buried under him."

"Yes." Beverly clutched at his arm. "I felt the same way. Were you frightened?"

He inhaled deeply, thinking it over. "No. No, I don't believe I was. He was persuasive. I found myself convinced by his conviction. It was as if his excitement became my own."

"Was there any of you left intact when he was... in you? Did you know when I was talking to you?"

"No, Beverly. I don't remember that."

She realized she was holding on tightly, squeezing his arm. She abruptly released him and smoothed down his sleeve. "I'm glad to hear it. You were very cold to me. And I was just trying to help you."

He caught the wry sparkle in her eyes. "I apologize if I gave offense."

"Apology accepted." The nascent smile faded almost before it had begun. She bent her head. "Jean-Luc…"

There was real sadness in her voice, and maturity. This was not the overdramatic aftermath of a crisis. It was a simple reaching out from a woman who had known loss, and was inclined to face it with stoicism and reserve. He recalled, quite suddenly, her empty expression when he brought her to view her husband's remains, years ago. She'd been so quiet and still. Monosyllabic words. "Yes, that's Jack." "No, I'm fine."

If she was reaching out to him, the least he could do was acknowledge her outstretched hand. "Beverly." He put a hand on her arm, shielded by her uniform and lab coat, mimicking her gesture, as much latitude as he would allow himself.

She covered his hand with hers, fondly, undemanding. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back. This is where I belong."

The moment threatened to veer into the awkward; he withdrew his hand. "Now, I suppose you want me on this bed."

A twitch of her slim nose was the only sign that she knew that hadn't come out the way he meant it. "It will be easier to treat you."

He hopped up on the biobed, covering his slight embarrassment with aplomb.

* * *

><p>Tasha supervised the installation of the last Antican delegate into a cell in the brig. There was a metallic pulse as the force field activated.<p>

"Outrageous!" The shout came from the head delegate's cell.

Tasha sauntered over and faced him, her arms behind her back. "I agree. Your behavior has been outrageous. We will remand you to the authorities on Parliament when we arrive. We need only analyze the evidence for the DNA of the specific perpetrator to determine who is the murderer and who are the accessories."

The Antican growled. "They attacked us. We were merely acting in self-defense."

"Those claims will be investigated as well."

"While those criminals travel in luxury!"

She frowned. "We're done here." With a nod to the crewman on duty, Tasha walked off.

The corridor was more brightly lit. "Computer, locate Lt. Cdr. Data."

"Lt. Cdr. Data is on the bridge."

But it wasn't exactly Data she was looking for. She had a new case for the indefatigable Sherlock Holmes.


	35. Chapter 35

Part Four – Leather and Lace

The yellow eye floated in a ground of white, blown up to massive size like a great fried egg. Behind the magnifying glass, the pale skin showed itself not smooth and featureless, but dotted with pores and crisscrossed with fine lines, as complex as a human's.

Data was kneeling by the puddle of blood outside the Selay guest quarters, examining the area with a magnifying glass, the gooseneck pipe clenched between his teeth. Tasha couldn't be sure if he was serious about using the ancient tool or if it was just for show. He had scanned with a tricorder first.

He elevated gracefully to his feet and took the pipe in hand. "Observe," he said, pronouncing it with a British inflection. "Faint discoloration here, and here, four lines." He gestured with the curved stem.

Tasha peered where he was pointing and then scanned with her tricorder. "I don't see anything, but I'm picking up some biological residue."

"Look again." Data held the magnifying glass up to the wall. His manner was almost imperious; Tasha found it novel.

"I can barely see them, but yes, four lines. What are they?"

"Scratch marks left by an Antican's dirty fingernails. He struck the wall with enough force to leave evidence behind."

"A struggle?" Tasha asked, straightening up.

"The carpet tells us more. A boot heel rotated here, counterclockwise. It was the dominant foot."

"Counterclockwise?"

"To the left. It suggests the Antican was pushed."

"How do you know he wasn't turning to kick?"

Data looked smug. "Elementary, my good woman. The right hand struck the wall. If you fall, with which hand do you catch yourself?"

"Both, or my right."

"Your dominant hand. And to kick an attacker, do you step on your right foot and kick with the left?'

Tasha mentally reviewed the action. "No, the other way – step on the left and kick with the right."

Data nodded sagely. "Right-handed equals right-footed. If you would allow me to demonstrate against the opposite wall…" He took her elbow and crossed the narrow corridor. "The Antican delegate has been pacing, as evidenced by the fibers of the carpet." He folded his arms behind his back and began to pace.

"You can see that?"

"He is anxious because the guards have gone in search of the Selay delegation, and he hopes his quarry will return ahead of their keepers. The Selay delegate emerges from behind the door, surprising the Antican. He thought the room empty." Data threw up his hands in a parody of surprise, his mouth a round O. Tasha snorted. "The Selay throws the Antican against the wall, pivoting him sharply on his right foot, so." Data put his hand on her waist and followed through in slow motion, raising her right arm from behind and placing her hand gently against the wall. "The Antican pulls out a hidden weapon and fatally wounds the Selay."

Tasha played the part, pulling an invisible knife and pushing it to the hilt against Data's side. Their eyes met for a moment – they were caught up in the game. "And then?"

"The blood trail is scant, but it leads this way." He put the magnifying glass to his eye, swelling its size to a yellow platter again, and pointed down the hall.

Tasha let him go and pointed to the sticky brown puddle. "But most of the blood pooled right here."

"Suggesting the Selay delegate fell where he was stabbed. The blood trail was left by the weapon the Antican carried as he ran to find his companions."

"How do you know they didn't struggle?"

"The evidence does not support that theory, my dear colleague."

"What if the Selay grabbed the Antican as he fell…." She curled his hand around a make-believe dagger and pushed it into her side, then spread her hands wide and closed them around his neck, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "And held him with his dying strength until the other Anticans found them and finished him off?"

Data-as-Holmes had an uncharacteristic reaction to her nearness. He uncurled the hand at her side and pressed her slim waist closer. "A macabre little tale, my dear, but wholly unsubstantiated."

His nose was right by hers; she burned to kiss him, but didn't dare. The hall wouldn't stay empty forever. "Just a thought." She let go of his neck and hovered a little closer, the tip of her tongue on her upper lip. "So what now?"

"Now," Data's superior smile made another appearance. "We search for an Antican delegate with a twisted knee."

* * *

><p>"Mr. La Forge, what's our estimated time to Parliament?" Riker stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his cleft chin raised to a jaunty angle.<p>

"Twenty-six hours, sir. Then we can wash our hands of our honored guests," Geordi replied.

"Thank you."

Will could have looked it up on the captain's monitor, but he wanted to use talk to bring a sense of normalcy back to the bridge. The experience had been unnerving, not to say devastating, but his own paralysis when the time came to act had surprised him. He considered himself a man of action.

Maybe the combination of respect for the captain and Starfleet regulations had tied his hands more than he'd realized. There was always a balance to maintain between following the rules and taking risks. His instincts for when to walk the line and when to take the leap had helped him advance faster than most of the officers who had crossed the graduation stage with him. Most, but not all- Paul Rice had made captain before him. He didn't regret his caution – mutiny was a high-risk venture – but he hoped his hesitation wouldn't be perceived as weakness by the rest of the bridge crew. And so he reached out, testing the air, kicking sand to see which direction the wind was blowing. He'd worked hard to develop a tight relationship with the senior staff. He hoped there would be no long-term damage.

* * *

><p>"Counselor, I appreciate your concern, but the danger is past. We can close the book on this chapter of our journey." Capt. Picard was ensconced in sickbay, boxed in by a protective Crusher and a persistent Troi.<p>

"I will obey your directive, of course, sir, but I must insist one last time that you allow me to hypnotize…"

"Counselor… Deanna. Your objection is noted. But I am quite myself again, and if I have some memory loss, perhaps it is for the best. I issue a general apology for any odd behavior. Let's leave it at that."

Deanna's dark eyes finally conceded defeat. "Yes, sir." She nodded to Beverly. "Doctor."

Beverly watched the Betazoid's retreating figure. "Apology accepted."

"I'm so glad. Now, when will you discharge me? I'll be damned if I let those so-called peace delegates leave my ship without seeing them off personally with a stern warning."

"We're still a day away from Parliament. And you're not going anywhere until your cellular degradation level is at zero."

He saw no reason to hide his cranky displeasure. "I don't know how you spend so much time inside these walls. It's no place for a captain."

She smiled sweetly. "Get used to it. You're not leaving until I deem you completely healed. And that's an order."

He raised both eyebrows and gave her a warm smile. "Then I resign myself to your care."

* * *

><p>Ten-forward was crowded at the lunch hour. There were plenty of lounges where the passengers and crew could congregate, but many people onboard responded to the recent crisis by migrating towards the largest one, as if to strengthen themselves by their numbers.<p>

Geordi sat down across from Tasha. "This seat taken?"

"It was. But you can see he's…" Geordi followed her eyes to the bar, where Data was talking to two security officers, now and then gesturing with his pipe. "Occupied."

"He's really getting into this whole Sherlock Holmes thing, isn't he? Do you know much about it?"

She held up the padd she'd been reading.

"'A Study in Scarlet.' Sounds bloody."

"It is. And hard to get through. The archaic language…"

"You're a trouper." Geordi looked over at the bar again. Data had pulled out the magnifying glass and was examining the sleeve on one of the security officers. "He looks like he's having a blast."

"Don't let him hear you say that. He'll tell you he's not capable of having fun."

"Just look at him!"

She did, and a smile warmed her face and eyes. Data was immersed in the role. The security team and several onlookers were plainly amused, though not in mockery; they looked entertained.

Tasha turned back to Geordi. "I think it's sweet. He looks happy. And it's actually helping us crack the case of the Selay murder."

"Crack the case? You sound like a sleuth yourself."

Tasha giggled. "Guilty as charged."

"You know, we should put something together for him, as a surprise. Who says androids can't have fun?"

"That android does."

"How does he know? Something on the holodeck – a Sherlock Holmes mystery program. He'll love it."

"But Geordi, how do we program it? All I know about Sherlock Holmes comes from two half-read books. Do you know anything about it?"

"Not much," he admitted.

"Data's the best person to program a Holmes scenario on the holodeck. And he might not like it if we don't get it right, so we might as well put him in charge."

"Okay, okay. No surprise. We should get the captain in on it, though, don't you think? He's the one who started the whole thing, according to Data."

"I don't think the doctor will let him out of her sight."

"Riker and Troi?"

"I'll ask them."

"What about Worf?"

Tasha smiled. "Only if he gets to break some heads. He finds most of the preset programs too tame."

"It's a murder mystery – there must be some heads that need breaking."

"Then I'll ask Worf, too. You ask Data. I'm sure he'll tackle it with enthusiasm."

"I'm sure. It's amazing – Data learned about Sherlock Holmes only a few days ago, and he's already an expert. What do you think of that?"

"I think it's a skill I'd like to have."


	36. Chapter 36

"The injustice! We're locked up in this cage while those vermin roam free. Your highest tribe leaders will hear of this effrontery!"

Tasha let out an audible sigh through pursed lips. At least she knew why Badar N'D'D was head delegate – he sure could talk.

"Sir, you do not know that the Selay party is free to move about the ship. And I will not confirm or deny your accusation." Tasha eradicated any sign of gloating as she addressed the indignant alien. "I am here to inform you that we are orbiting Parliament, and officials will arrive shortly to escort you from the ship."

"When they do, these walls will ring with the infamy of your unjust treatment. I have never-" The hiss of the outer door cut off the chief delegate's rant.

Tasha took a deep breath, alone for the moment in the empty corridor. "Politicians," she muttered, and stalked off to the turbolift.

* * *

><p>Will sat in the captain's chair, staring ahead without seeing the green and white planet that filled the viewscreen. The response from Starfleet HQ to his report had been noncommittal – the Enterprise's adventure with a powerful, invasive entity, their touch-and-go flirtation with mutiny, and the two deaths aboard were all written off as hazards of deep-space exploration. The captain's resignation was dismissed, as it had been tendered fraudulently by another being. Picard himself was still confined to sickbay, and Will had nearly recovered his confidence and good humor, though he was still experiencing moments like this one, when the contemplation of "what if" took his mind far away. He was not generally a contemplative man, but the experience had been too affecting to ignore. What if they had left the captain behind? What if he'd had the gumption to abandon his leader against Deanna's recommendation? He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was a waste of time to worry about what might have been.<p>

"Bridge to Sickbay. We're ready."

* * *

><p>Beverly held the probe over Jean-Luc's heart, her eyes trained on the tricorder readout. "You're not completely healed. I'm not ready to let you go."<p>

Jean-Luc gave her his steadiest, most authoritative look. "I will not be held back from delivering the sendoff those rogues deserve. They've run amuck on my ship long enough. I will not have them leave and spread rumors that the Enterprise was their personal playground for their petty, childish squabbles."

"Yes, that's very mature," Beverly replied with a perfectly straight face.

The affronted look dropped somewhat, as Jean-Luc lowered the jut of his cleft chin. "There was a murder on my ship, Doctor. It cannot be borne."

"Of course not." She replaced the probe in the tricorder with a click and gestured with the instrument. "One trip to the transporter room, and then I expect you to come straight back here."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Thank you, Captain." Beverly gave him a small smile. "Enjoy your tirade."

He neglected to reply before passing through the sickbay door.

* * *

><p>Data and Geordi were surrounded by rapidly changing scenery: a busy London street, cacophonous with the cries of hawkers and the clop of horses' hooves, a bachelor's library jammed to the vaulted ceiling with books, knickknacks and curiosities, which transformed instantly into an elegant lady's front parlor. The environments appeared and dissolved at a rate that would have dizzied any normal-sighted person; neither Geordi nor Data seemed the least perturbed by the display.<p>

"Run the characters down for me one more time, Data. I want to make sure I've got them straight."

Data did not pause in typing into the handheld controller, and a vast opera hall appeared. "You will play Dr. Watson, of course, and I, the great Sherlock Holmes. The tall, Herculean King of Bohemia will be played by Cdr. Riker. That leaves Godfrey Norton, the lawyer, and Irene Adler, the bewitching prima donna, along with various and sundry shabby London street people."

"I don't know." The scenery changed to the carved wooden interior of an Anglican church. "I don't think Worf is going to be thrilled to play a lawyer."

"And Lt. Yar has expressed doubts about playing The Woman, Irene."

"Maybe you should pick another story, Data." The android's wounded puppy look made Geordi instantly backpedal. "I mean, it sounds great from everything you've told me . . ."

"I can program scenarios for any story in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's oeuvre, of course. I have no need for sleep, and ample time after my next duty shift."

Geordi detected a touch of martyrdom in the android's tone. "C'mon, Data. That's not necessary. I'm sure we can make it work." He looked up at the black roof of the hansom cab that suddenly appeared above them. "Still, are you sure you can't change the lawyer into a cop?"

* * *

><p>Picard strode down the hall of deck 12, satisfied with the blistering speech he'd given to the departing delegate parties. It had doubled his satisfaction to deliver it twice. The Anticans and Selay had a Corvan gilvos' chance in Gre'thor of joining the Federation after their circus sideshow of violence and prejudice.<p>

"Glad to see you up and about, sir." The counselor's voice surprised him from behind. He slowed as she fell into step beside him.

"Only briefly, I fear. The CMO hasn't released me."

"I know. I was coming to sickbay to check on you."

Picard stopped and stared down the dark-eyed counselor.

"Captain, I'm not going to ask you again to submit to hypnosis," Deanna said with conciliation.

Jean-Luc allowed the faintest beginnings of a smile.

"I have to admit, I wasn't coming to see you in an official capacity at all," she went on. Deanna lifted a hand as if to touch him, but gently let it fall back to her side. "We came very close to losing you. I just wanted to know that you're all right."

Jean-Luc's genuine smile was answered by Deanna's. They turned and continued shoulder-to-shoulder down the hall.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm baaa-aaaack! Did you miss me?<strong>


	37. Chapter 37

The smell of rose attar and talcum powder mingled with smoke curling up from the gooseneck pipe in an abalone shell rest. In the center of an upholstered Edwardian boudoir replete with overstuffed ottomans, carved and tasseled chairs, and gilt-edged mirrors stood Data in a velvet smoking jacket and flannel trousers, a look of mild consternation on his face that was a pale reflection of the room's other occupant's. Tasha stood scowling before a full-length mirror tilted in its gold leaf frame. She was dressed in an elaborate costume, a green and black evening gown that fairly dripped with flounces, feathers, and ruffles. Her blond fringe wilted under a pouf of iridescent peacock feathers.

"Data, I don't know how else to say this: no. No, no, no. It's impossible!"

She turned to the side and frowned at the bustle of her dress, a gravity-defying construct of green satin and black lace. "Just look at this. It looks like my ass swallowed an elephant."

Though dressed as Sherlock Holmes, Data spoke in his own voice. "Perhaps the color is troubling you. Computer: change costume to black and ivory stripes."

The dress shimmered and changed, no less ornate than its predecessor.

"It's not better, Data. And now I look like a piano."

"I am certain we will discover an appropriate costume if we thoroughly explore all possibilities, Tasha. Computer: purple moiré."

"I'm certain I don't want to! Data, I've tried on a dozen outfits. It's not the color; it's the style. Women must've been crazy to wear this stuff. Besides, look at the shape of this dress – I can't imagine what goes underneath to make a person look like an oversized pigeon."

Data nodded. "A valid point. Computer, display undergarments."

A dress form appeared between them, and layer by layer was covered in corset, garters, bloomers, chemise, petticoats, and a padded bustle whose weight and size caused both Data and Tasha to raise their eyebrows.

"Intriguing."

"Ridiculous! Computer, vanish my costume."

With a swish, Tasha was clothed in her goldenrod uniform, streamlined and incongruous in the lavish room. "Data, I just can't get dressed up like a doll for you. I know you're excited about playing Sherlock Holmes-"

"I am incapable of feeling excitement."

"Whatever. But if I'm going to play along, it's got to be on my own terms."

Data's neutral expression looked glum to Tasha. "I understand."

She crossed to him, kissed and then patted his cheek. "Just let me think about it."

"Of course."

"Computer: exit." Tasha strode to the doors that appeared in place of the boudoir window. "One of these days, we're going to put together a holodeck program that _I _like. Something with sports. Something fun."

"Tasha…"

She paused before the bulkhead doors that had automatically opened – she almost hadn't heard him call her name. "What?"

Data deliberated a moment, almost as if he were collecting his thoughts. Tasha couldn't tell if it was an affectation, or if he was truly measuring his words.

"Thank you for indulging me in this fantasy," he said finally, quietly. "Even though you do not find it 'fun'."

"Oh, Data!" Tasha stepped away from the doors. They slid noisily shut and were instantly replaced by the velvet-curtained picture window. "I didn't mean that." She tsked. "Of course it's fun – Geordi and I only wanted to do something special for you." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm not trying to spoil your fun. But I can't wear one of those…monstrosities."

"I understand," Data responded softly.

Tasha came closer. "It's just not me. And I can't play a part so far removed from who I am. Couldn't I just be in the background somehow? Geordi said something about a police officer…"

Data straightened and picked up the pipe. He drew on the stem, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. "My good woman," he said in a stentorian voice, "you may play whatever part suits your fancy."

Tasha coughed and giggled; she couldn't help herself. Her android friend fell into the part with such ready glee. "All right, my dear sir," she said, her accent inexpert. "Computer, old chap, show me what you have in uniforms."

* * *

><p>Deanna leaned in close to the mirror, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. She felt tickled to play a main character in Data's holo-program, and especially pleased by the number of costume changes the part required. There was one dress in particular that she couldn't wait to try out on an audience. So much so, she'd arranged for a private showing.<p>

The door chimed. "Come in," she said quietly.

Will entered with his usual confident swagger. "So, what's the big-" The sight of Deanna stopped him cold. "Whoa."

Deanna unfolded an ostrich-feather fan and fluttered it once in front of her sly smile as Will raked his eyes over her. They blazed a trail from the flowers in her loosely coiled hair to the mauve lace train sweeping the floor, then back up to where a bustier made Troi's already generous assets a sight bordering on miraculous.

"It's called a tea dress," Deanna said with a smile.

Will's grin couldn't have looked any more devilish. "Where do you put the tea?"

"Have you gotten your costume together yet, your majesty?"

"Hold on – we're not done talking about yours." Will offered his hand and revolved the counselor in a slow circle when she took it. "You look amazing."

Deanna didn't overlook the husky tone that had entered his voice, or the emanations of desire from him that swept over her in waves. "Thank you. Most of the outfits are high-necked, but I thought this dress was more flattering."

Will tucked her hand to his body and pulled her in by her waist, made tiny by the corset. "Is that why you called me here? For flattery?"

Deanna touched his chest with a restraining hand. "Will, we can't."

He stopped in the motion of lowering his head to hers. "But after our trip to the cove, I thought-"

"I didn't mean for it to go so far. We weren't thinking clearly. We'd just had a taste of danger."

His blue eyes smoldered. "Wouldn't you like another?"

She didn't stop him this time as he bent low and gathered her up in a kiss. She felt her own desire rise to meet his, dancing and intermingling until she couldn't tell his from hers.

They broke apart. Will ran his hands over her lace bodice and made a sound of frustration. "How the hell do you get this thing off?"

Deanna snapped out of her lust-laced fog. "You don't."

"Imzadi…"

"You know we shouldn't. Not here. Not while we're posted to the same ship." _Not ever_, she added internally.

She watched the fire in his eyes die down and felt the force of his will dampening it. He plunged a hand into her hair and pulled; she closed her eyes involuntarily.

"You should wear it like this more often."

Her eyelids fluttered. "The bun is more professional," she murmured.

"The bun," Will rejoined, "is dumb."

Deanna's eyes opened wide and she took a step back. Every response that came to mind sounded childish – she decided to turn and walk away, the lace train swishing behind her.

"You do look amazing," Will said gruffly.

"Thank you." There was sadness in her tone now.

Neither knew what to say.

Finally, Deanna reached out with her mind. "Imzadi…"

"Enough." Will put up a hand. "Don't, Deanna. You want me to stay or you don't. You're the one who called me here."

She waved the fluffy white fan, fragments of feathers drifting slowly down to the carpet. She watched them fall.

"I just wanted to show you my pretty dress."

He went to her then and held her gently, without urgency, beyond words.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think, big guy?"<p>

Worf and Geordi were in the replication center, watching a miniature virtual Klingon in a morning coat and cravat.

Worf scowled at the natty image. "I think humans are obsessed with pretending to be what they are not."

"Data's not human."

"No." Worf turned his scowl on Geordi. "He pretends to be one, which is worse. A double pretense."

"Oh, c'mon. That's kinda harsh. Would you rather he were programmed to act like a Klingon?"

Worf snorted. "That is unlikely. There are no Klingon cyberneticists. We do not try to create playthings in our own guise. For what? To send into battle? It is the act of a coward."

Geordi thought they were getting off topic. "Anyway, what do you think of the costume?"

Worf's only reply was a rumbling growl.

"Gotcha. Keep looking. All right. Computer, how about white tie and tails?"

The altered image garnered a louder growl.

"You know, this is a good part, Worf. You get to marry Deanna and run away in a big ship."

"Ludicrous." Worf ground his teeth. "But humans put a great deal of importance on social interaction. I will not refuse the invitation of a superior officer."

"That's the spirit." Geordi smacked him on the back and immediately regretted it – Worf seemed to have spikes in his spine. "Computer, let's see the morning coat again, but this time, striped pants."

Worf narrowed his eyes.

* * *

><p>When Data got back to his quarters after beta shift, he found Wesley waiting for him in the hall.<p>

"Hi, Commander. I heard you were programming a new holodeck scenario."

"That is correct, Ensign Crusher."

"Can I be in it? I've been reading some Sherlock Holmes stories, and I know he worked with a group of boys to help him solve crimes."

"Yes, the Baker Street Irregulars."

"That's it. Can I be an irregular?"

Data cocked his head. "Though it is true that I am writing the program, the event has been organized by Lts. La Forge and Yar. It would perhaps be more appropriate to ask them."

"Okay, Commander." Wesley turned to go, but paused. "Thanks for considering it. It's really nice of you."

Data nodded and entered his quarters as Wesley jogged off to the turbolift.

* * *

><p>"Beverly, I order you to release me."<p>

Jean-Luc stood defiantly eye-to-eye with the CMO. Not a line or wrinkle belied that the doctor was placidly unmoved by the captain's demand. She continued to scan him, blue eyes twinkling as she watched the tricorder readout.

"That's not how it works, Jean-Luc."

"I will not spend another day cooped up in sickbay. I feel fine," he said testily.

"How nice for you. According to this, you're not."

He raised his voice. "I've given you an order."

"Mm-hmm." Beverly put the probe away. "Did I mention that Data's been working up a new program in the holodeck?"

Jean-Luc's brow furrowed. "No."

"Yes. A Sherlock Holmes mystery. Well, not really a mystery, more of a story. You were invited."

"I was?" His look darkened further.

"You were. I believe the remaining part is 'shabby street person'."

Jean-Luc's grumpy expression took on shades of effrontery. "Shabby what?"

"I told him you weren't well enough to join the fun. But if you'd like me to release you prematurely, I can tell Data that you're available for the part."

Jean-Luc held her eyes. "You wouldn't."

Beverly crossed her arms. "Try me."

The captain compressed his lips. Then, with a graceful motion, he hopped up backwards on the biobed and slowly reclined.

"I'll release you when your cellular degradation reads normal. Not before," Beverly said firmly.

Jean-Luc folded his arms on his chest and sighed. "And you won't stop at blackmail to keep me here."

Beverly patted his upraised knee. "Coercion, Captain. Blackmail is such an ugly word."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One of the reasons I haven't had time to write is that I haven't had time to watch TNG. I work better when the language is in my ear, so forgive me if I'm rusty on the tone. I've been watching the season one Blu-ray and dude. Dude! In Code of Honor, Karole Selmon (who plays Yareena) is naked under that see-through robe in the big challenge scene. You can clearly see everything – holy HD, Batman! I'm sure no one else has mentioned it on the interwebs because why would anyone watch that episode besides me? You reeeaally have to be obsessed with Tasha to get through that one.<strong>


	38. Chapter 38

A rack of clothes materialized in the main holodeck under the watchful eyes of Data and Deanna. As the counselor pawed over each hanging confection, Data remarked, "It seems an excessive use of energy to employ site-to-site transport as a valet."

Deanna fluffed the pleated frill of a sleeve. "Well, what should I have done? Pushed this thing through the halls?"

Data sized up the heavy-laden rack. "The dimensions of the personnel turbolifts are insufficient to accommodate it and a person."

Deanna pulled out a fringed shawl and draped it over her shoulders. "You're sure no one will be able to see through my dressing room?"

"There is a .08% chance that a malfunction in the holoemitters would cause the illusion to fail, a 1.6% chance that a ship-wide emergency would warrant a power shut down to the holodecks, a .0001% chance that a fluctuation in the regular energy cycle would be of great enough variance to-"

"Thank you, Data. So you're pretty sure, but it's not 100% guaranteed?" Deanna asked.

"Correct."

"I'll take my chances." She wriggled her hand into a pearl-gray kid glove. "Ooh, I can't wait. This is so much better than a murder mystery. We just get to dress up and run around and have fun."

"Then, you are looking forward to the diversion, Counselor Troi?"

She pulled on the other glove and secured the tiny pearl buttons. "Of course I am. Isn't everyone?"

Data looked unsure. "No, I do not believe that is the general consensus. It may be that the others are participating out of a sense of obligation."

Deanna laid a leather-clad hand on the android's shoulder. "Listen, Data. I want you to remember this. Sometimes, people humor each other. Everyone can plainly see that you're taken with this Holmes figure, and I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's sweet. If your friends want to do something special for you, let them. It's a reciprocal thing – they get the pleasure of seeing you enjoy yourself, and you get to do something you enjoy. If you stop to worry about whether or not we really want to be here, you've broken down that lovely give-and-take."

Data's confused look deepened. "I am not sure that I understand."

"Just think of it this way: if a mother goes to see her child perform in a play, she's going to applaud, even if the child forgets all his lines. And afterwards she's going to hug him and tell him he was great. It doesn't matter if the play was good or bad, or fun or boring; what matters is that they shared something together. That's what love is."

Data's expression immediately brightened. "Then, the other officers are participating due to their feelings for me?"

"Yes, Data."

"Even Worf?"

"Well," Deanna swallowed her laughter with difficulty. "Maybe it's not exactly love in his case, but it's definitely respect."

"I understand. Thank you, Counselor." Data sounded cheerful now. "Your advice is welcome and appreciated."

He seemed to be delighted, and Deanna found it novel to feel no accompanying emotion. Data looked so boyishly excited, she wanted to hug him and ruffle his hair. It surprised her – she usually considered Data a curiosity, not… The thought pulled her up. Not a person. She searched his yellow eyes, clear, innocent, so like a child's, and wondered how she could be so narrow-minded. Tucking her head down, she gave in to her impulse and embraced him, stopping short of mussing his perfectly arranged hair. When she drew away, Data was looking at her with astonishment.

"Why, Counselor Troi…"

"You really are special, Data." She felt her amusement mix with a warm feeling for him that was quite new. "It's no wonder your friends are getting together to play with you."

Deanna turned back to the rack of clothing while Data blinked rapidly, staring off at the yellow lines of the holoemitters.

"Hmph!"

* * *

><p>Geordi and Tasha sat in Ten-forward passing a padd back and forth as they discussed the final details of their plan.<p>

"There should be some surprises," Tasha insisted. "Something unexpected."

"That's a tall order – he wrote the whole program," Geordi replied.

"We'll have to get crafty, then. What if we get him started alone, and then sort of enter one by one?"

"I like it. There's a skeleton plot, but that doesn't mean we have to follow it to the letter. There's the beginning in his apartment…"

"You should go in first, Geordi."

"And then Riker comes in as the Bohemian king."

"And then the flashback to the opera house. You should see Deanna's dress."

"Can't wait. Data built in a changing room for all her costumes."

"Better her than me! And then the scene at Irene's apartment."

"That's the best part." Geordi rubbed his hands in anticipation. "That's when all hell breaks loose."

"I know! That's the part I'm most looking forward to." Tasha smiled and took the navigator's hand. "I know we're doing this for Data, but I can't wait to blow off some steam. Thanks for putting it together."

"We should thank the captain – it's his fault Data's been going around with a pipe and a deerstalker cap."

"A what?"

"The newest addition to the ensemble. You'll see it tonight."

Tasha tapped the padd. "Almost 13:00 – we should get back."

"Right-o. Pip pip," Geordi chirped.

"Cheerio, old chap."

They held straight faces for another second before bursting into giggles.

* * *

><p>Will stood in front of the captain's chair. "Set a course for Starbase 115, warp factor six."<p>

"Aye, sir. Course laid in," Geordi answered.

"Engage."

"Cheers, guv'nor. Anchors away," Geordi tried out a bad Cockney accent, garnering looks from the rest of the bridge crew.

Will didn't miss a beat. "That's 'your Majesty' to you."

"Wot's all this imperial poppycock?" Geordi's reply provoked a stifled titter from Tasha.

"Your Majesty?" Wesley asked facetiously.

Worf stood at mission ops, his face stoic. "I will not talk like that tonight."

"Righty-o. A chap's a chap and a chum's a chum," Geordi replied.

Worf muttered something to himself that no one asked him to repeat.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If you want to know what the heck they're talking about, read "A Scandal in Bohemia," the first story in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It's short, and in public domain. Go ahead. I'll wait for you.**


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